All Angles
by TKeiraLea
Summary: A series of vignettes reflecting Jag Fel's POV that revolve around the events of Dark Journey
1. The Dream

**ALL ANGLES**

_  
_Title:  All Angles_  
Author:  TKeiraLea__  
Timeframe:  NJO – specifically during Dark Journey_  
_Characters:  Jagged Fel, Jaina Solo, Shawnkyr Nuruodo, Leia Organa Solo, Han Solo, Kyp Durron, Tenel Ka, Ta'a Chume, Lowbacca_  
_Genre:  Romance, Drama, Action__  
Keywords: Jaina, Jag, _Trickster  
_Notes:  Second part of the Force Evolution Series_  
_Summary:  A series of vignettes revolving around the events of Dark Journey.  Events are seen from Jag Fel's POV, including several missing scenes._

Thanks to **Hoya94** and **ZaraRose**** for proofing this!   
  
  
**THE DREAM**   
  
_The swirling wind whipped snow flurries all around him, sometimes blinding him in a sheet of white. Other times he could just discern the outline of a figure in the distance. The figure was moving across the glacier, through the blizzard at a slow run, as fast as the elements would allow. A violet light illuminated the hooded form from behind. The light moved back and forth in rhythm with the figure's gait.   
  
He called out, fearing for the person on the glacier. The figure stopped for a moment at the sound of his voice, but never turned to face him. Then the form resumed its trek through the storm. The pace was more urgent than before.   
  
He left the relative protection provided by the proximity to the main estate building to follow the misplaced traveler. His hunt was made all the more difficult from fighting through the drifts of snow, but he trudged forward, undaunted by the task. Some force was pulling him like a magnet, driving his feet faster and faster.   
  
He thought he would never catch up, but then the figure stumbled and fell. As he approached he could make out the tiny shape of a blue robe, cloaking a petite figure kneeling in the snow. He called again, driven by a gnawing desire to protect this being's life.   
  
The figure turned at the sound of his voice. Instead of a stranger under the hood, there was the delicate face of Jaina Solo. The features held him captivated, just like the first time he saw her on Ithor. Her skin was flawless. Brown hair cascaded out of the hood, capturing snowflakes in its tendrils. Those eyes beckoned him to come to her and take away the sadness hidden there. He had known those eyes his whole life, and yet he had never seen them sad like this. Her eyes reflected the brilliant violet rays emanating from the lightsaber grasped in her hand as they drowned in a watery pool.   
  
Then the tears fell, like a dam breaking. Her hand came up; her fingers outstretched, beckoning for a touch. He reached out, his farthest finger hungering for the feel of her. Their fingers were so close he could almost feel the electricity spark between the two.   
  
In a cruel twist, the wind swirled heavier gusts. The electric edge he felt came to life in a swirl of violet lightning pulsing amidst the flurries. As he blinked away the piercing snow buffeting his eyes, he realized she was being barraged by the streaks of energy. Each strike diminished her presence until she was just a ghost. The lightsaber dropped through her hand, which was no longer corporeal.   
  
Jag fell to his knees and grasped her in his arms. He met the warmth of her body, beneath his embrace. Some part of her was still whole. There was still a chance. Her arms wrapped around him, clutching his waist in a desperate attempt to anchor herself. She cried into his chest.   
  
"Please save me!"   
  
He pulled her closer still, but the warmth of her body was fading with the wind. Energy still crackled through her, catching him sometimes in painful bursts where they touched, but he refused to release her to the cruel fate that begged to be fulfilled. He tried to adjust his grip, to find something real to grasp. When he did, she slipped into the rush of the wind, pieces of colored snowflakes disappearing into the heavens.   
  
He sobbed. "Don't go."   
  
A pleading voice cried out on the wind. "Jag!"   
  
Her voice was carried away, and then she was completely gone. Even in spirit he was alone. All that was left in her wake was the blinding fury of the storm._   
  
Jag shot up in the bed. Sweat beaded down his bare chest. His lungs begged for air. It was not the first time in his life he had been assaulted by such a vivid dream. They came often since he had returned to the Unknown Regions. Even though he had not seen Jaina since Ithor, she haunted his slumber, like she had taken up residence in his soul.   
  
Jag recalled the last time he had really been with Jaina, the day on the Chimaera before the battle for Ithor. He had drummed up the nerve to ask her to lunch. Only when they had arrived at the mess, Jag had discovered what an awful blunder he had made. In spite of his usual calculating mind, he had failed to foresee that he would be leading her into a room brimming with Imperials.   
  
She had stiffened visibly at the sight of the mess; he had felt it as surely as if his own body had done so. Then she had thrown her chin up in defiance and walked in as though she owned the Star Destroyer. Jag was not sure who had been more impressed, himself or the hundreds of Imperial soldiers who had stopped everything to cast their eyes on the petite beauty in the New Republic orange flightsuit. If he had doubted it before, Jag knew that his heart was no longer his own.   
  
Now all Jag had left, since returning to Csilla, were his dreams. There was not a part of her he could not recall in vivid detail, down to the amber flecks in her eyes. Never before had his dreams taken such a horrifying turn though. As surely as the sun set on Csilla, Jag knew something terrible had happened to Jaina.   
  
Jag rose and pulled on his flightsuit. He eyed the backlit face of the chrono on the wall – 0600. His father would be working already. It was time to resubmit his request to return to New Republic space. Jag put his parka on, one arm at a time before picking up his pilot's bag to sling over his shoulder.   
  
When he had left on the first mission, Jag had never imagined wanting to be anywhere but here on Csilla. Now all he could think of was joining the fight. He corrected himself. All he could think of was seeing Jaina one more time. His thoughts raced with arguments, knowing his father would fight him at every turn. Maybe he would simply leave of his own accord. He was a grown man; Soontir Fel could not stop him if he chose to go.   
  
The door slid open, letting a beam of light trickle into the room. Jag stepped into the light then the door shut behind him. He strode down the barracks hallway, his mind haunted by the image of Jaina's suffering, haunted by his own failure to save her.   
  
One way or another, he was about to embark on a new adventure of his own. Things would be different from now on; he felt a renewed sense of excitement, a hint he was on the right path. The door before him opened, letting in a frigid blast of air mixed with snow. Jag took a deep breath and pushed his way into the buffeting winds.   
  
The swirling wind whipped snow flurries all around him, sometimes blinding him in a sheet of white. Jag stopped in his tracks and stood quietly. The wind howled all around the surrounding buildings, singing a mournful song. He listened to it carefully, and he could almost make out the tragic voice from his dream calling in the storm's serenade.   
  
_"Please save me."_   
  
He shook his head before readjusting the duffle bag over his shoulder. Lowering his head, Jag forged ahead into his future. _I am coming for you, Jaina._**


	2. Unexpected Allies

This is based pages 130-135 of Dark Journey by Elaine Cunningham. Some of the text is directly from the book. There is some added dialogue for a conversation that is alluded to between Jag and the Hapan official, otherwise dialogue is not my own. When I reread this book, while researching Echoes of the Past, I saw this budding relationship with Jag and Kyp as seen from Jag's point of view and not Jaina's..  
  
  
**UNEXPECTED ALLIES**

  
The whine of the repulsor engines filled the cockpit as Jag guided his clawcraft down to the crowded docks. The fact that the two clawcraft were an oddity proved helpful as people backed away from the descending fighters to get a better look. Jag supposed the inherent nature of the machines, reminiscent of the Empire's TIE fighters in design, caused some to step away in fear.   
  
After a quick power-down, Jag leapt from his cockpit to an athletic landing on the ground, not expecting the benefit of the ladders provided by fighter technicians at home. He started his usual inspection of the hull, looking for signs of damage and wear, when Jag caught sight of a petite brunette heading his way. His heart jumped in his throat initially at the hope she might be Jaina, but as the woman came into full view, Jag recognized her as Leia Organa Solo.   
  
If Jaina's mother was any indication, the Solo daughter had only tapped into the youthful reserves of beauty with which she had been bestowed. Experience and time may have added a few lines and gray hairs to Leia's appearance, but her outward loveliness was enhanced by an inner grace few women ever mastered. His mother was one of the only other women Jag knew who could hold a candle to Leia in that department.  Not that he knew many women, he reminded himself.   
  
Hope sprung anew at the realization that where Leia Organa Solo went, the possibility existed Jaina would not be far behind, especially after losing a beloved family member. Jag was sure Jaina would turn to her family in her hour of need. He became painfully aware his face exuded more emotion than usual as Leia returned his smile. Recognition of Leia's colleague forced Jag's expression to revert back to its normal unreadable mask.   
  
Kyp Durron. Jag had the dubious honor of meeting the green-eyed, dark-haired Jedi Master once before. The introduction had been brief, both men sizing each other up. Jag found little he cared for; he assumed Kyp had felt the same way by his actions. Jag had read the Intel concerning the key players in the war, including many Jedi, with some interest since returning to Csilla. Kyp Durron was seen by most as somewhat of a rogue, differing with the Jedi leadership on their purpose and role in the conflict. Kyp was the type who always went against the grain. Jag despised his kind and everything they stood for. Master Durron countered everything the Chiss held in high regard.   
  
As Leia reached Jag, the young colonel drew himself up tall and greeted the woman with a crisp, formal bow. At the same time, Shawnkyr arrived at his side. "Your Highness, it is good to see you well. May I introduce Major Shawnkyr Nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet."   
  
Leia donned her diplomat's face at the mention of his second-in-command's last name. Ever the consummate lady, she dipped her head politely to the tall Chiss. "I might say the same for you, Colonel Fel. It is a pleasant surprise to see the Chiss presence on Hapes. Is your presence here a portent of things to come?"   
  
Jag did not fail to miss the hint of hope in the older woman's voice. He inclined his head in a bow of apology. "I regret that it is not. Shawnkyr and I are scouts for the Chiss, no more."   
  
"Pretty impressive arsenal for a pair of scouts," Kyp observed, tapping one hand against the proton torpedo launcher.   
  
Jag stifled his initial desire to slap the man's hand off his ship. He was unsure from where the emotion was derived, but his considerable measure of control kept it well hidden as he calmly replied. "We don't seek trouble, but neither will we run from it."   
  
Several uniformed Hapans strode toward them, flanking two men in bedraggled flight suits. One of them pointed to Jag. "That's him – him and the woman. They're the ones."   
  
"Some of that trouble you didn't run from," Kyp asked.   
  
Jag did not honor the Jedi Master with the benefit of a reply. His stare was brief and cool, barely hinting at the hidden animosity boiling beneath his steely demeanor. "Excuse me," he murmured to Leia, and then went over to speak with the officials.   
  
One official edged forward from the others. "Are you Colonel Fel?"   
  
"I am."   
  
The official eyed Leia standing just out of earshot then returned his attention to Jag. "The Hapan government has a bit of a sticky situation developing. A Yuuzhan Vong frigate analog is hailing us, requesting an escort to Hapes."   
  
Jag's brow furrowed. "Is this some sort of defection?"   
  
"Apparently not. The transmission indicates the vessel has been taken over by a team of Jedi led by Jaina Solo."   
  
Jag's heart skipped a beat, but he held his emotions in check. It amazed him that simply the mention of her name made his whole world turn upside down. His insides knotted at the thought of her fighting the Yuuzhan Vong. His mind conjured all sorts of terrible images of Jaina lying helpless and injured. He wondered where she could have been to stumble into such a predicament. Was her brother killed on a secret Jedi mission they had both been assigned to?   
  
"Are you sure?"   
  
"No, we are not. That is why we are requesting your assistance. It is entirely possible this is some sort of ambush and the pilot's voice was not Jaina Solo at all, merely a deception using her status to get the frigate close to Hapes. I was under the impression you have experience against the Yuuzhan Vong. Do you not?"   
  
"Yes, I do. We'll take care of it." Jag spun on his heel and cast a glance at Shawnkyr, who, without pause, swung back into her ship with graceful ease. Her engines hummed to life as he returned to Leia Solo. Jag figured she had a right to know about her daughter before he left.   
  
"We've been asked to undertake a short mission," Jag explained. "A Yuuzhan Vong frigate analog requires an escort to Hapes."   
  
Kyp let out a burst of derisive laughter. "Who'd you have to kill to get that job?"   
  
Jag ignored the interruption, wondering how this rogue could understand honor and duty. "The pilot is believed to be Lieutenant Jaina Solo." _Honor and duty - who are you fooling Jag? More like a perfect opportunity to thrust yourself into Jaina Solo's path._   
  
Any doubt about Jaina truly being onboard the vessel vanished at the sight of Leia's face, worry tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I know, and I thank you for undertaking this. It won't be easy to get an enemy ship in unscathed."   
  
Kyp surprised Jag with his unexpected request. "Could you use another pilot?"   
  
Jag regarded him for a long moment. His first impulse was to flat out refuse, but then he carefully reconsidered the idea. If Jaina was in as dire straights as he imagined, Jag would need every possible advantage to bring her ship in safely. Kyp was regarded as a skilled pilot and commander. Regardless of Jag's confidence in his own abilities, he was unwilling to risk Jaina's life on such a small point as his own ego. The thought of sacrificing some of the Imperial pride he worked so hard to wear as a shield simply for Jaina's sake was a scary revelation, and yet he did it without hesitation.   
  
"The Hapan officials do not seem entirely convinced that this is not some sort of ambush. They have asked Shawnkyr and me to go because we have combat experience against the Yuuzhan Vong. It's entirely possible, however, that we were chosen for this task primarily because we are not Hapan, and are therefore considered expendable."   
  
"Oh, if that's all," Kyp said dryly. "I've been expendable for years. And recently my status has been downgraded from undesirable to anathema."   
  
Shawnkyr leaned over the edge of the cockpit, her red eyes taking Kyp's measure. Jag saw no disapproval despite the fact he was positive she knew of the Jedi's history. "You will fly under Colonel Fel's command," she demanded over the whine of her engines.   
  
"It's his mission," Kyp replied, before facing Jag. "What about it, Colonel?"   
  
Jag accepted with a curt nod. As he hoisted his body in a lithe move into the cockpit Jag thought to himself, _Just__ this once Kyp Durron, for Jaina's sake._


	3. Crash Landing

**CRASH LANDING**

  
Jag dropped his fighter out of hyperspace, checking for the X-wing and clawcraft on either side. Once secure with the fact that all three fighters had made the jump safely, Jag eased forward on his stick. Almost immediately, his comm began to crackle with static; a weary voice followed.   
  
"This is Lieutenant Jaina Solo of Rogue Squadron, aboard the Yuuzhan Vong frigate _Trickster_. The ship is under New Republic control. There are no Yuuzhan Vong aboard. Repeat, this is not an enemy ship. Hold your fire."   
  
Jag was about to click his comm when Kyp's voice beat him to the punch. "Relax, _Trickster_. We're here to see you safely down."   
  
The gall of the Jedi immediately spurred a flare of dark emotion in Jag's gut. He reminded himself that Kyp was used to leading his own squadron. The reminder did little to assuage the feeling. Jaina's cold response fueled the fire anew as the trio of fighters closed in on the pirate ship merged awkwardly with the coral frigate.   
  
"Kyp Durron. You might as well turn around right now. I wouldn't follow you out of an ocean if I were drowning."   
  
Kyp, who did not seem to know quite when to quit, pursued the matter. "Hear me out before you open fire. Your parents are on Hapes, in the refugee center. I told the princess I'd bring you back. Now, you could send me back to Leia empty-handed, but we all know what path a vindictive spirit might take you down."   
  
Jag could practically feel the venom flow through the channel as Jaina spit back at the Jedi. "Don't you use my family in another of your tricks – if they're really on Hapes at all."   
  
Jag had heard enough. He was not about to let Kyp fan the fire any further. It was obvious Jag had inadvertently opened some old wounds by allowing Kyp to accompany him on the mission. He was beginning to regret ever agreeing to the Jedi Master's involvement. "This is Colonel Jag Fel, Lieutenant Solo. I have seen your mother on Hapes, and the request for an escort came directly to me from landing control. Kyp Durron is speaking the truth, and flying under my command."   
  
Jaina sounded confused as she spoke and rightfully so, Jag imagined. "Under your command? Don't believe it." Any hopes of a happy reunion were dashed by Jaina's next comment as she stomped all over his pride. "If Kyp can twist a Jedi's thoughts, he can make you think anything he wants."   
  
_So much for saving the day, Jag.__ You appear as undesirable as the Jedi Master._ "Thank you for your concern, but I hope I'm not quite so weak-minded as that." Jag regretted the glacial tone of his voice instantly. Obviously, the poor girl had been through quite an ordeal, expecting she would jump at the sound of his voice after all this time and all she had been through was a bit preposterous.   
  
He imagined her brown eyes blazing with her fiery retort. "So do I. Suit yourself. But while you are watching my back, keep an eye on your own." The open comm line clicked off, indicating Jaina had ended the conversation.   
  
Jag was troubled by the idea that Jaina found one of her fellow Jedi so untrustworthy. Suddenly, he had additional concerns beyond getting Jaina to Hapes and then planetside safely in that collage of ships. Jag felt a growing need to keep a watchful eye trained on Kyp. The whole ride back to Hapes was filled with troubled speculation about the latter. What terrible harm had Kyp Durron inflicted on Jaina to drive her to such a pointed distrust for the man? Jag felt he better find out to ensure he did not make the same mistake.   
  
Once on final approach to Hapes, the first concern was out of Jag's hands. He watched as the coral frigate - still attached to the pirate ship - began its descent into the atmosphere, lumbering and lurching in an awkward tango. The two ships seemed to twist in unimaginable contortions until Jag was sure they would break apart. Suddenly, the two ships separated. At first, Jag thought the ships had broken apart under the strain, but as the coral vessel righted easily, he could tell that it was sealed at the point of separation.   
  
The pirate ship did not fare as well, spiraling slowly toward the ground. The pilot pulled out of the spin seconds before impacting the ground. The ship rose in a sweeping turn, then slowed to a hover as the repulsor engines kicked in. First the cargo ship, and then the frigate analog, came to a rest on the landing dock.   
  
Jag, having watched the scene with bated breath, eased his clawcraft toward his original berth, some distance away. Shawnkyr stayed tucked in beside him; Kyp blasted forward with out so much as a by-your-leave.   
  
Settling into the designated space for his clawcraft, Jag caught sight of the two Hapan officials who had originated the request to bring in the Yuuzhan Vong frigate. They were not exactly what Jag hoped to deal with at the moment, and a seldom-used profanity slipped past his lips. The anticipated delay the two men would cause forced him to quicken his power-down procedure.   
  
In his haste, Jag flipped the weapons system safety by accident. The lasers and torpedo launchers jumped to life, sighting up to dead ahead of the clawcraft. As Jag cursed his own ineptness, the officials, now on the receiving end of thousands of terrajoules of firepower, scurried out of range.   
  
The unexpected result actually formed a grin on his lips. Jag was thankful he was still hidden behind the anonymity of his helmet as the weapons powered off for a second time. Out of the corner of his eye, Jag caught the piercing glare of Shawnkyr already emerging from her cockpit. Jag completed the remainder of the power-down uneventfully, tugged off his helmet and brushed a gloved hand over his short hair.   
  
It took mere seconds to release the canopy and scramble to the ground. Jag straightened his flightsuit before marching over to the Hapan officials. Shawnkyr joined them while the taller Hapan addressed Jag.   
  
"Colonel Fel, we are grateful for your assistance today."   
  
Jag tipped his head in acknowledgement. "It was the pleasure of the Chiss to be able to assist the Hapan government."   
  
The shorter official, a squat man who had obviously indulged his appetites, bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. "Would your presence here on Hapes be indicative of future aid on the part of the Chiss?"   
  
Shawnkyr glared down at the man with her fiery eyes. "Colonel Fel and I are here solely as scouts for the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force, not to fight your war."   
  
Both officials frowned, the taller one replied. "That is unfortunate; we are terribly undermanned with our earlier losses in the war. Your experience would have been most helpful as we try to unite the varied forces coming into the Cluster from Coruscant. I fear history ensures we will be the next target for the Yuuzhan Vong advance now that we have allowed refugees into the system."   
  
Jag frowned in turn. "My colleague is correct that we are here in a scouting capacity, but as long as we are on Hapes accepting your hospitality, I do not see any reason we cannot assist in patrols."   
  
The mood of the officials rebounded, the pudgier fellow moved forward like he could hug either one of the pilots. Their stern stares halted the man in his tracks. He stuck out a hand instead. "Any pilots you can recruit, we will gladly outfit. Please let us know what your requirements are, if any."   
  
The man probably would have rambled on, but Jag had places to go. "You will be hearing from me. If you will excuse us, I should check on the crew of the frigate analog."   
  
Jag spun on his heel; Shawnkyr was barely a step behind as he headed directly for the frigate analog's berth. She spoke to him in their native Chiss tongue as long legs allowed her to catch him. "Why would you agree to render aid without express consent from the CEDF?"   
  
Jag trudged on, never offering his second the courtesy of a sideways glance. "What I propose does not conflict with our directive and still allows us to offer our assistance where it is greatly needed. Our actions could only help the Chiss' standing among the New Republic. We cannot afford to be blind to the threat the Yuuzhan Vong pose to our own region of space and the need to ally ourselves against this foe."   
  
Shawnkyr stopped. "The Chiss do not care how outsiders perceive us nor will we require the New Republic, or Imperial Remnant for that matter, to help protect what we have held strong for centuries. You are thinking like a human, not a Chiss."   
  
Jag spun on his heel so he stood boot to boot with the taller pilot. "In case you forgot, I am human, but I have the heart of a Chiss. In accepting me, the Chiss have already accepted help from an outsider."   
  
"You have proven your worthiness, and I am proud to call you a brother-in-arms, Jag. I cannot say the same for the members of the New Republic I have met."   
  
Jag started back in the direction of the frigate. Shawnkyr matched him stride for stride. "You should reserve judgment. Maybe some of them will prove worthy of your respect."   
  
The snap in his voice stifled a response as the frigate came into view. A pair of uniformed Hapans were escorting a repulsor sled out of the entrance to the vessel. A familiar voice halted Jag's approach.   
  
"I wouldn't go over there just yet, Colonel."   
  
Jag turned to see Kyp coming out of the shadows of a parked fighter. His eyes lacked the usual troublesome sparkle. Jag glanced back and immediately recognized the sled carried a body draped in a sheet.   
  
"Is that her brother?"   
  
Kyp moved closer, his step heavy. "One of them, I am sure. Whether it is Jacen or Anakin, I do not know."   
  
Jag whipped his head back to face the Jedi Master, shock had found a way to creep into his expression. "I thought only Anakin died?"   
  
Kyp shook his head. "All the Jedi felt Jacen pass. It was right before we went out to bring in the frigate analog."   
  
Something did not add up for the young colonel. "So why was Leia Solo so composed? Does she know?"   
  
Kyp's brow furrowed. "She is a strong woman, but I sense some denial. Leia has accepted Anakin's death, but her heart has not acknowledged Jacen's."   
  
As Kyp spoke, a two-person speeder skimmed past, piloted by a grim Han Solo, his wife at his side. Before the vehicle had stopped, Leia had flung herself out. Her pace faltered until her feet were glued in place. Her attention was focused on the repulsor sled. A bedraggled Jaina emerged from a recess under the coral frigate, while a blonde girl sidled over by the sled, ending near Leia, just as Han came around from the speeder.   
  
Jag watched as the mother wrapped her only surviving child in her arms. Vivid memories flashed behind his eyes of clutching his own mother after bringing home Davin's remains. A lump formed in his throat as festering wounds threatened to open and spill forth anew. He had clung to Syal like a lifeline; Jaina did just the opposite. She bristled, then pushed away, holding her mother at arm's length.   
  
After a brief exchange, both parents moved to the repulsor sled. It was impossible for any of the observers to speak as they watched the proud woman uncover the face of her child. A quiet whisper escaped Kyp's lips.   
  
"Anakin."   
  
Jag knew better than most the pain of losing a sibling. He had lost two, but no amount of imagining could put him in Jaina's place, losing two brothers in the span of as many days, one brother a part of her life from the womb. Cherith had been closer to Jag than any of his other siblings, but even that was not the same.   
  
He found comfort in the thought she, too, had the strength of a loving family to lean against, or so he believed. The tension between the remnants of the Solo family was palpable across the hangar. Even the usually unreadable Jedi gathering around Anakin's bier shifted uncomfortably at the heated exchange.   
  
It was not long before Jaina was strutting away from her parents defiantly. Han Solo took off after his daughter, a mirror of her determination, but his wife stayed him with her hand. Kyp stepped forward on an intercept course. Jaina's glare could have melted an entire glacier on Csilla, but the Jedi Master was undaunted, standing directly in her path.   
  
"Move out of my way, Kyp. I am in no mood for your perfidious ways. Not today, not ever."   
  
Compassion, a rare companion of the green-eyed man, actually resonated in his voice. "Jaina, I know you are overwhelmed by the grief of your loss, but you need to let go of the emotions you are chewing on. I know what they can do to you."   
  
"Those emotions are the only reason I know I am alive. Otherwise I would be a numb shell. The last person I need lecturing me on how to feel is you, Master Durron. I didn't kill my own brothers; I had them ripped right out of my life." Kyp cringed visibly at the verbal barb. "Anakin died saving me, and Jacen…"   
  
Tears brimmed in her eyes. The words choked on her sobs. Jaina swatted the tears from her cheeks like they were hot caf burning her skin. She started to bolt past, but Kyp gripped her arm. She pulled back, dragging Kyp with her. Jaina exhibited considerable strength for such a tiny person. Kyp persisted, tightening his hold and digging in his feet.   
  
"Kyp, let me go." Her words were a plea, filled with despair.   
  
"I just want you to talk to someone. It doesn't have to be me. It could be Luke or Mara or Zekk. They all know what power these emotions have. At least…"   
  
An overwhelming urge to come to Jaina's aid drove Jag forward. He was about to interfere where he was not wanted when Jaina jerked free of Kyp's hold. She stumbled from the force of her own actions, tumbling directly into Jag's arms. He grasped her around the torso and easily righted her.   
  
Jaina caught her breath as Kyp closed in. For a split second, she gazed into Jag's eyes. He found a mirror reflecting all the sadness he had ever known. The deaths of Davin and Cherith rushed back, opening a hole in his soul. Then the connection was broken as a shroud dropped over her eyes, and Jaina was gone from his arms, running as fast as her feet would carry her.   
  



	4. Lady in Red

The following vignette is based on pages 166-168 of Dark Journey by Elaine Cunningham.  Again some of the dialogue is not my own, but I have stretched the scene out before and after to fill in some of the missing gaps.  This is by far one of my favorite scenes ever.  I hope you enjoy!

  
**LADY IN RED**

  
After paying the driver more than requisite for his driving skills, Jag jumped out of the hired speeder and trotted up the steps of the Hapan Palace. He was late, and the traditional announcers usually expected at such formal affairs had already departed. Only a pair of guards framed the arched entranceway, one on either side. Jag flashed his invitation and stepped into the bright lights and boisterous sounds of the formal affair.   
  
Jag strode along the enormous hallway and pulled up outside the Grand Dining Hall. He paused. Living among the Chiss had allowed limited opportunity to actually attend these kinds of functions, but his mother had insisted all the Fel children know how to conduct themselves properly. Dancing and etiquette lessons were a mandatory part of the winter break. Still, the sights were foreign and imposing. Servants moved about the room offering refreshments to dignitaries of all types and species regaled in every imaginable dress, bedecked in millions of credits worth of jewelry.   
  
Glancing down at his black dress uniform, Jag performed one last, quick inspection. He grabbed the bottom of the jacket and tugged, then smoothed the spot where his medals usually rested. The missing decorations were the reason he was so late. Jag fought with himself for an hour over whether or not to wear the blasted things. On one hand, they illustrated the achievements of his short, but stellar, career. Colonel at his age was no small feat, especially among the Chiss. On the other hand, they could easily be construed as symbols of arrogance.   
  
Jag had taken the medals off and put them back on three times before deciding against them. He wanted a chance to impress Jaina, not ram his accomplishments down her throat. For once, Jag wanted to be seen simply as a man and not a fighter pilot or a Chiss. So, the medals had stayed on the dresser, a symbol of his sincerity.   
  
After a chance to grow accustomed to the surroundings, Jag eased into the room. He let his eyes scan among the guests, looking for the person who had haunted his every waking hour and made him believe he was losing his touch. His head turned slowly surveying for his intended target. He got a hard lock within seconds.   
  
Standing in the middle of a group of Hapans, one of them the pudgy official Jag had scammed the invitation from, Jaina stood out like a supernova among a universe of stars. She appeared entirely more comfortable than he felt, talking and mingling with the men as if this were an everyday occurrence. For all he knew, it might be, seeing that she was the daughter of Princess Leia Organa Solo.   
  
At first, the gathering of admirers obscured all except her face -- there was no better word for the cluster of men -- but then, Jaina eased her way out of the circle and waved them off. Jag's breath caught in his throat at her beauty. Her hair was simple, a gathering of curled, caf-colored locks pinned atop her head. Her makeup was just as uncomplicated, light coloring around her eyes and some gloss on her lips. The dress, although not extravagant, completed a heavenly picture.   
  
Jaina was tiny, standing just over five feet, with a figure hinting at the curves of womanhood, and the dress showed every single one of them. The material was a scarlet-hued shimmersilk, the perfect compliment for her complexion. The cut was strapless, with a tight bodice that laced up the front, drawing the eye in a line from her slim waist to the firm swell of her breasts. The skirt flared out over her hips then fell away to the ground, gathering in a bustle at the back and trailing away to a short train.   
  
Jaina skirted the group of men she had abandoned and headed away from Jag. He stood motionless, watching her. His feet frozen in place; his heart somewhere up in his throat. As Jaina greeted her fellow Jedi, the Hapan Princess, Jag felt his temperature rise. Suddenly, his collar seemed too tight, and he broke into a cold sweat. He yielded to his body's betrayal, cutting a path to a pair of doors leading onto the veranda.   
  
Once outside, the cool night air did little to quell the heat rising from deep within, like a furnace stoked with too much fuel. Never before had any female inspired such intense emotions and desires. Jag had been attracted to several women, he even found himself once or twice thinking of a couple Chiss females as prospective partners, but never had his thoughts been totally dominated by one person. Jag felt like he was losing his mind.   
  
Jag leaned over the railing, supporting his weight on both palms. He forced deep breaths in through his nose and pushed them out forcefully with his diaphragm, trying to expel the tension that wound up his spine. After a few harrowing minutes, a feeling of control returned, and Jag urged himself to focus.   
  
_Okay, just think of it as a mission. Let's establish a checklist and order of priorities. First, casually run into your objective without looking like the fair-haired fool you are. Second, indulge in some casual conversation about anything other than pilots and war. Third…_   
  
"How's the view?"   
  
Jolted from his thoughts, Jag spun around, whipping his right hand as he went. His hand met with a potted plant, resting on the balcony railing. The pot teetered as Jag tried to catch it, but it slipped past his fingertips. Jag made another desperate lunge before the pot landed with a resounding _thud_. It dig not break as he feared, but toppled over, spilling the soil and blooming plant out on the veranda.   
  
"Kriff!" He muttered a seldom-used curse his father loved to hurl out when his mother was far from earshot and leaned over to set the pot back on its base.   
  
A rustling of material brought Jag back to his senses. He bolted straight up where his feet were planted, ending face to face with Jaina. She was smiling up at him, a sparkle in her brown eyes. She unconsciously fussed with the laces on her gown, tugging them near her waist, as he stood dumbstruck for several heartbeats. At that moment, Jag decided she was the worst type of beautiful, happier in a flightsuit, totally oblivious to her own femininity and alluring looks – a temptress wrapped in the trappings of an angel.   
  
She glanced down at the newly relocated pot. "Landscape designer, in addition to fighter pilot extraordinaire _and_ ambassador from the Chiss here to rescue us hapless Rebels, is there anything you can't do, Colonel?"   
  
Jag dropped his gaze immediately at the bite of her words, clearly she still saw him as some kind of Imperial throwback. He bent down and fiddled with the plant. It would not stand straight in the pot; too much of the dirt had taken its leave onto the veranda's tiled floor. He frowned and considered his next move. As he was about to scoop the dirt up with his hands, Jaina's voice stopped him.   
  
"Wait, don't get your hands dirty."   
  
Jag looked up; Jaina had knelt down in front of him so they were eye to eye. It was not her brown eyes that his focus was drawn to, however. In her present position, Jag had a perfect line of sight down the top of her dress. He forced his green eyes to look anywhere but at the perfect soft curves. He met her gaze.   
  
"It is all right. They are just a handful. I mean, it is just a handful." Jag prayed the ground would open up and swallow him whole. _Can't you control yourself? You are like some poor man with no control over your raging hormones. How can you? Look at how perfect those… Stop it, Jagged! She is a Jedi; they can pluck your ravenous thoughts from your brain without a second thought._   
  
"If you got your hands soiled, you would be late for dinner, and it would all be on account of me startling you."   
  
The corner of Jaina's mouth turned up in a funny sort of grin, and all thought fled Jag's mind. With the slightest of touches, she grasped his hands away from the dirt, where they were frozen, then rose, pulling him up with her. The feel of her fingers sent shivers up his arm and down his spine. Jag practically popped to attention under the strain of the sensation.   
  
At first, he did not realize what she was doing or that she had even released his hand, the feeling had practically been burned into his nerves. Coming to his senses, Jag glanced down. The dirt was spinning in a little vortex, ending back in the pot. He watched almost spellbound, like he was a kid at a magic show. This Force ability was something he was going to have to get used to.   
  
Jaina broke the silence. "See, all better, and no dirt under your nails."   
  
Jag bent over and picked up the pot. He placed it back on the rail before turning to face Jaina. "That was interesting. Can you teach me?"   
  
Jaina beamed a big grin in amusement. "Some other time. That was a little trick Anakin and I used to play on Jacen. We would move the dirt into his room. He would get so mad." A sadness washed over her face as the realization struck that memories where all she had left of either of her brothers. Jaina skirted past Jag and took up the position on the railing he had formerly held, her hands supporting her weight. She held her head high and proud, but avoided his gaze as she peered into the distance.   
  
Seeing her strength mixed with an incredible sense of sorrow renewed Jag's composure. He gathered his wits and stuffed them back in the durasteel box he kept them locked in. "I am sorry about your loss."   
  
Jag wanted to say more, but he knew there was no more he could say. He understood the pain better than most. No amount of words could ease the aching in her heart. That did not stop him from wanting to pull her into his arms and hold her close as she cried her eyes out. He wanted to be the one she leaned on. At that moment, Jag realized there was more than just physical attraction. What he felt ran deep, like the valleys forged by the glaciers of Csilla.   
  
"Thanks." Jaina drew her shoulders back and turned so her back was to the railing. She was not facing him directly, leaving Jag a good view of her profile. The glistening in her eyes was apparent, but no tears fell. "I came looking for you, because I wanted to thank you in person for escorting us back to Hapes. We had all been through enough at that point. A friendly escort eased a lot of fears." She looked him in the eye. "The Jedi are indebted to you."   
  
"There is no need…"   
  
"There is one more thing. I want to apologize for implying you were weak-minded for one and for behaving rudely on the flight deck. I was not myself the other day. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression."   
  
Jag stifled a grin. Somewhere deep inside, Jaina Solo cared about what he thought of her. "No harm done. I have had plenty worse thrown my way. As far as what happened on the flight deck, I was worried. It was not my place to interfere, but Master Durron was upsetting you."   
  
"Well, Kyp has an ability to rub everyone the wrong way. I think he is incapable of caring for anyone but himself. I will see myself married to royalty before I ever call Kyp Durron a friend. Enough about Kyp, it will spoil my appetite, and I am starved as it is. Maybe we should see whether dinner is about to get started."   
  
Jag smiled. Well, most would not call it a smile, but it was the barest hint to some small bit of happiness brewing deep within him. He held out his arm, just like his mother had made him practice over and over. "That sounds like a plan. Shall we?"   
  
Jaina accepted his proffered arm, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow with practiced ease. "You didn't wear all those medals like on Ithor."   
  
Jag started walking; Jaina matched his pace. He forced himself to take slow steps, to enjoy the moment. "No, I decided this was a state dinner, not a military function. I am not trying to impress anyone. Actually, I am not here as a Chiss. I got my invitation because of my father's title on Corellia."   
  
They passed through the doors back into the Grand Dining Hall. Jag immediately noticed eyes drift their way. They were definitely not looking at him, except for cursory glances at the man escorting Jaina Solo, as if to determine his worthiness. At that moment, Jag felt like the luckiest man alive. Amazingly, Jaina's attention was not on the room; it was focused straight at him as she continued to talk.   
  
"Ah. That explains why they sat you at my table. They are trying to keep the Corellians in the back and out of the way. We have a reputation to uphold you know – trouble and mayhem are certain to follow wherever we go."   
  
Jag's smile grew bigger as he peered down into her soft brown eyes. "Then my father must not be a full-blooded Corellian, because I have never known him to cause any trouble."   
  
Jaina was guiding him through a maze of tables. She seemed to know where she was going, so Jag walked willingly beside her. He would have walked off the side of a cliff to stay by her side tonight. She laughed.   
  
"I am not full-blooded Corellian, although my mother questions that from time to time. I tend to stir up plenty of excitement on my own. Besides, from what my dad says, your father had his day. He _is_ the man who stole Wynissa Starflare right out from under the Empire's nose."   
  
Jag chuckled at the thought. "I never looked at it that way."   
  
Jaina stopped, tugging Jag to a halt with a firm squeeze of her arm wrapped in his. They were standing before a table where several dignitaries were already seated. Jag glanced down at Jaina, questioning her intentions with his green eyes. She reached over with her free hand and smoothed the empty spot on his uniform where the medals usually rested.   
  
"Wise decision, not wearing the medals. All the shine hides the real you."   
  
Before Jag could respond, one of the dignitaries from the table approached and interrupted. The man was anxious to meet Jaina Solo. Jag suffered through introductions with the entire table and then escorted Jaina to her seat. He was painfully aware of the distance and the phantom feel of her arm on his as he left her side. It was all he could do to not run back to Jaina and manage the walk to his chair across the table from her.   
  
Dinner went well. There were many curious guests that dominated the conversation, most wanted to talk to Jaina. She handled them all masterfully, but Jag could tell she was no longer enjoying herself. Some expressed mild curiosity about the son of Baron Soontir Fel. Jag followed the flow of the dinner chatter, remaining quiet unless someone directly included him in a discussion. Small talk had never been one of his fortes.   
  
As the dinner was winding down, the talk at the table slowed. Possibly the effects of the wine and good food had soothed the guests into a peaceful mood. Jag did not care what the reasons, he was just grateful for a moment to himself. He glanced across the table; candlelight flickered between him and Jaina, casting a soft glow.   
  
Jag studied Jaina as she tugged the laces on her gown. At that moment, she looked as innocent as a child fussing with her dress-up clothes. Briaun, his sister, had the same habit. His mother was constantly reminding her to sit still. Jag knew Jaina was far from innocent, though. He wondered what horrible things she had seen on her Jedi mission. He had heard talk among the pilots that the Jedi had suffered terrible losses at the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong. She was a dichotomy - the vision of a lovely young woman, soft and supple, housing a scrappy fighter and powerful warrior.   
  
She glanced up as if she knew he was watching and offered a rueful smile. "I'd be happier in a flightsuit."   
  
"No doubt, but you look lovely all the same."   
  
Jaina blushed, and Jag's heart about stopped pumping. He scolded himself. How could he have made it through the whole evening and not complimented her? He would have thrown praises her way in an endless wave to see that effect again. The blush on her cheeks only served to accentuate the beauty of her face. As quickly as the color had risen from the praise, she turned away to watch the first dance.   
  
Jag tried to keep his eyes on Tenel Ka and Prince Isolder as they maneuvered across the floor in an elaborate dance, but his eyes kept coming back to the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. Her skin was smooth and creamy. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her from the back of her ear all the way down to the tip of her shoulder. Fearful she would hear the thoughts screaming from the depths of his soul, he forced his gaze back to the royal pair.   
  
Jag did something impulsive then, in an attempt to lure Jaina to face him once more. "I wonder what might happen to a man who stepped on her toes?"   
  
The effect of his musing was decidedly good. Jaina shot a startled look at him. "Their heads are mounted on the trophy room wall." She feigned a serious air with her face.   
  
Jag was so pleased with the result of his impetuousness, he grinned from ear to ear. To his surprise Jaina glanced away. Jag wondered if he had been too bold when she nodded toward the growing crowd on the dance floor. "They've created a diversion. We could probably sneak out and look around for those trophies."   
  
Jag felt panic swell in his chest. Quickly, he called upon his steely nerves, honed in hundreds of battles, to take over. _Think of this as just another engagement. Fly by the seat of your pants; trust your instincts. They have not failed you in a dogfight yet. How hard can this be? She is a girl; you are a boy. Nature is on your side._ His brief pep talk seemed to do the trick. Jag rose from his chair and executed a formal bow.   
  
"May I have the honor of shared evasive maneuvers?" _Wow, that was smooth. See, it is really not that hard. I am sure she does not bite. Not that I would mind if she did._   
  
Chuckling, she took his offered hand. They merged into the swirling crowd, working their way toward the doors. One time, Jag had to pull her aside to avoid a collision with a dancing couple. His hand fit perfectly around her waist as their bodies brushed together. Jaina paused a moment, as if the closeness was as enjoyable for her as it was for him. Reluctantly, he drew away to dodge another incoming pair.   
  
After several near misses, the couple emerged in the hall, hand in hand, grinning like mischievous children. Jag could never have imagined the thrill of doing something as spur of the moment as this. Laughing and holding hands with a beautiful young woman were all so new, so different, but he was not ashamed to say he was having fun.   
  
Jag wondered what it was specifically about Jaina that brought such new emotions boiling to the surface. One look at her smile and sparkling eyes answered his question. Still holding his hand, she spun across the hall, her dress swirling around, until she ended facing him. Jag's breath caught for a moment.   
  
He was about try another one of those effective compliments when a paneled door slid open, and a slender, red-clad figure stepped from the banquet chamber into the hall. The magic was instantly lost. Jaina's smile disappeared behind a formal mask as Jag released her hand. Both drew themselves up to the measure of comportment befitting one talking to woman of considerable import.   
  
Ta'a Chume spoke. "Jaina, I'd hoped to have the opportunity to speak with you."   
  
Jag greeted the former queen with a crisp, proper bow and excused himself. He nodded to Jaina, and then disappeared through the open door into the swirling crowd. Jag wandered aimlessly, shot down from his euphoria with such speed he was still reeling from the effects. He felt like he had been dealt one of those gut shots his brother used to knock him down with as children. Not wanting to suffer his heartache in company, Jag headed for the entrance to the Grand Dining Hall.   
  
Once outside the crowded room and in the relative solitude of the long hall, Jag contemplated his next move. After a moment of indecision, he chose to stay; the hope that Jaina would return to the party after her audience with Ta'a Chume swayed his decision. Jag had just decided to step outside and clear his head, when a voice startled him.   
  
"Colonel Fel!" Turning his head in the direction of his name, none other than Kyp Durron was approaching like a storm cloud on the horizon. Jag could practically feel the threatening air descending on the party. Before Jag could wonder how the Jedi had gotten past the guards, especially dressed only in a simple tunic and pants, Kyp was at his side.   
  
"I see you took my advice. Have you had the chance to ask Jaina why she doesn't like me?"   
  
"No."   
  
"So you haven't seen her?"   
  
Jag bristled, under the barrage of questions. "I have, but I don't think it would be proper to ask a lady such a thing…"   
  
Kyp snorted. "A lady? Jaina Solo is far from a lady. She is more like a tusk-cat wrapped in a pretty package. She looks great -- like she is soft and nice to touch, but she has a wicked set of claws and fangs. I am sure you are blind to that fact, seeing as you are completely besotted by her."   
  
Jag's face turned to a formidable frown, and his eyes turned to green ice. "I am not besotted with Jaina Solo. I find her to be an intriguing young woman with a shared interest in piloting."   
  
Kyp laughed. "Whatever, but keep up those pretenses, and you will never get to see the inside of the cockpit of that fighter." Jag became rigid, his chest expanding and his shoulders stiffened. Before he could fire back a response, Kyp continued. "Listen, I would love to explain to you the how's and why's of romancing a spitfire like Jaina…"   
  
Jag was determined to say his peace. "Master Durron, I think you judge my intentions unfairly…"   
  
"Do you deny you are attracted to her? I mean you would have to be part blue-blooded Chiss to deny Jaina is about as desirable as they come. If I were ten years younger, I would be first in line…"   
  
Jag snapped. "She despises you; you don't have a chance with Jaina."   
  
Wrinkles around Kyp's eyes were the only hint to the humor he found in the situation. "Oh, so I did come up. There's still hope for me yet."   
  
Jag slammed the door on his jealous leanings as he realized the Jedi Master was goading him. His voice was cold as a Csilla glacier as he responded. "She hardly gave you half a thought."   
  
Kyp frowned, his mood turned suddenly somber. Jag imagined he even saw a hint of regret. "Well, she is not going to like me any more after tonight. I've come to take her to Anakin's funeral. Do you know where she is?"   
  
Even Jag could not stay mad at the Jedi, realizing his grizzly task. "She was meeting with the former queen, Ta'a Chume. You can find her through the doors directly across from the banquet hall's entrance."   
  
"Thanks. I suppose you could have left me to myself to find her after the way I acted. You're a better man than I. At least I can stop worrying how to go about this and get it over with."   
  
"Where is the funeral?" Jag knew the joy of the night was over, but he also knew he had to be close to Jaina, to show his support, even if it was standing in the shadows at the funeral.   
  
"At the top of Mount Ikinak outside the city. You can't miss it."   
  
Jag tipped his head respectively. "I will inform Prince Isolder and the others. I am sure they would want to attend as well." Kyp offered a small smile as a token of his gratitude then started for the banquet hall when Jag stopped him with a question. "Master Durron, why is it Jaina is not with her family at a time like this? Why does she hide in this Palace?"   
  
A wry smile formed on Kyp's lips. "She's too much like her father, fiercely independent to a fault. I am afraid Jaina will have to learn the hard way about holding everyone at bay when the bottom falls out, just like Han did, just like I did. Hopefully she'll find her way out before it consumes her."   
  
"You really care about Jaina, don't you?"   
  
Kyp chuckled. "I hate to admit it, but yes I do. I owe Han Solo a lot. Maybe saving his daughter from this dark turn is a step in the path to my own redemption." Kyp paused then met Jag's gaze. "Just maybe, when all is said and done, there will be some of that Jaina Solo left you are trying desperately not to fall in love with." Before Jag could respond, Kyp Durron spun on his heel in a flurry of robes and was lost in the sea of guests.


	5. Squeaky Clean

Again I am playing in the story of Dark Journey by Elaine Cunningham. Some of the lines are directly from pages 184-188 of the book, but I am only dabbling the master's world. Jag demands to be heard and understood.

  
**SQUEAKY CLEAN**

  
Jag hurried along the flight deck, dodging fighter hulls, technicians and droids with the practiced ease of a man familiar with the workings of such an area. His thoughts were definitely not on where he was going, but rather what he hoped to achieve. While he was on Hapes, Jag was determined to offer as much assistance as possible. To that end, he had agreed to function as a squadron leader for scouting patrols. In that capacity he would be able to educate and grow a new batch of pilots in the hope they would become productive members of the resistance to the Yuuzhan Vong invasion.   
  
It was under this pretense that Jag had decided to offer Jaina a position in his squadron. She was obviously set on seeing an end to this conflict, and his squadron could offer her exactly this opportunity. He knew she was no longer an active member of Rogue Squadron, but Vanguards could definitely use her skill. An added bonus came in the fact that numerous chances to interact and get to know Jaina would present themselves during the coming weeks, if she was to agree to join the squadron.   
  
Jag found the stairs leading to the observation deck overlooking the captured Yuuzhan Vong frigate. He climbed the stairs, but stopped when he noticed the Hapan royals gathered at the top. He dipped into a low bow.   
  
"Your pardon, I came seeking Tenel Ka. The captain of the guard sent me here."   
  
Ta'a Chume's gaze raked down the length of his body, with a desirous gleam that would have caused a lesser man to squirm. Jag held his body firm, not fearing the former queen's scrutiny. She then looked to her granddaughter with some disdain and remarked.   
  
"I suppose you've made arrangements to fly off somewhere. You seldom see fit to grace Hapes with your presence for more than a few days."   
  
Jag felt awkward for offering the former queen a reason to spew caustic remarks at her own granddaughter. He intervened on the Hapan princess's behalf. "I was hoping, Your Majesty, that Tenel Ka might be able to help me find Jaina. I am recruiting pilots to help scout this sector."   
  
Ta'a Chume pointed to the frigate below. Braying yelps of Wookie laughter wafted from the open vessel, followed by a female voice raised in a string of imaginative curses.   
  
"It's well that you've had combat experience," she said in a dry tone. She raised one hand in a peremptory hail to catch the nearest guard's attention, then pointed first to Jag and then to the Yuuzhan Vong ship. The guard snapped a salute, his fist touching his temple.   
  
"Good luck," she told Jag before making a little gesture of dismissal.   
  
Jag bowed again and left promptly. His feet moved swiftly down the stairs in eager anticipation of seeing Jaina once more. Their time together at the state dinner had proven to be the focal point of his thoughts for the past couple of days. Most of the formal affair had gone better than Jag could have hoped, with Jaina intimating to future romantic possibility by succumbing to his compliment with a hint of a blush. Then, she had willingly joined Jag in an attempt to escape the party and explore the palace.   
  
If the former queen had not interrupted, Jag could only wonder where the night would have led. No, that was not fair for him to say. If it were not Ta'a Chume, Kyp Durron would have arrived not much later to escort Jaina to the funeral. Time and circumstance had conspired against them that night, but Jaina had given him an incentive to pursue his desires. Their time together that evening was doomed to be short, but Jag was determined to insert himself firmly in Jaina Solo's life, one way or another, and based on her reaction at the dinner, he did not imagine Jaina would be too opposed to the prospect. As a matter of fact, he was certain she would jump at the chance to fly with him.   
  
The guards parted to allow Jag access to the ship. He walked up the ramp, a simple incline similar in design to that of most frigate-class ships, but there all similarity ended. The alien vessel looked more like an asteroid than like any ship he had ever seen. Jag placed a tentative hand on the hull. The surface was as rough and irregular as the coral reefs in the oceans of Rhigar 3, the near-tropical blue moon that circled the Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo training academy.   
  
Jag could not imagine how the Yuuzhan Vong had coaxed a colony of tiny creatures into forming a space-going vessel. It was said that these ships were alive, almost sentient. Jag began to wonder about the mechanics of operating such a ship but quickly pushed the thought out of his mind to focus on the task at hand. He cautiously tapped on the hull.   
  
The response was immediate and vehement. Jaina burst into view, her pretty face marred by the contortions usually associated with frustration. She stopped short when she saw him and stood framed in the open portal, her hands braced against the sides.   
  
The sight of her caught Jag by surprise, and he could not avert his gaze from staring at the mishap in the making called Jaina Solo. She was liberally daubed with pale green gel from head to toe. A splotch ran from the tip of her nose to her right cheek. A general splatter rested on her left shoulder. Most noticeable though was the gel oozing down her hair, leaving several wisps standing up in shining spikes.   
  
Jag finally gathered enough of his wits off the floor to speak. "I have come at a bad time."   
  
"That depends," she retorted. "If you're interested in having a shower, you're in luck. There's one on this ship and I just figured out how to start it."   
  
To himself Jag thought, _Jaina in the shower, I like the sound of that._ "Ah," he observed randomly as a tempting vision flashed before his eyes.   
  
_The swirl of the misting steam rose in a constant supply from the hot spray of the showerhead. Jag peered through the mists at the vision before him. Her head tilted back and water ran down the length of her hair, which seemed more of a dark chocolate wet than the milk chocolate when it was dry. The rivulets of water streamed along tendrils until their trip ended, and they were forced to change to a random path along the smoothness of her white skin.   
  
Jaina brought her hands up to rub shampoo into her wet scalp. As her fingers worked between the strands of hair, Jag marveled at the movement of her sleek shoulder muscles under the surface of her skin. Her body was perfectly sculpted with not even a hint of excess fat to conceal the underlying strength. The outline of her shoulder blades begged him to trace the sensuous edges as they moved until he could almost feel the ridge under his fingertips.   
  
As her hands formed tantalizing circular motions across her bubbling hair, Jag walked closer still, drawn in by the need to touch what must be a piece of heaven. More of her perfect body came into view as the dense steam formed a weaker barrier, and his eyes trailed down the outline of her spine, each vertebrae defined, across the seductive arch of the curve in her back to the small dimple over…_   
  
"…the last thing you need is more spit and polish. And when I say 'spit' you have no idea how literally I'm speaking."   
  
The abrupt nature of her comment jolted Jag out of the daydream that had flashed before his eyes and quickly cooled the flames of desire licking up at his insides, as if he had been dropped in a cool mountain pond just after a thaw. Her words were certainly not in the same receptive frame as a few nights before, but in true Chiss fashion, he refrained from showing any hint of the underlying emotion boiling below the surface.   
  
"And what is it, precisely, that I do need?"   
  
His icy tone fanned the flame, heated by anger and definitely not passion, burning in Jaina's eyes. "You tell me. You're the one who's barging in here and interrupting my work."   
  
"I came to offer you a ship, and a place in the Vanguard Squadron."   
  
"Thanks," she said flatly, "but I've got a ship. It just needs a few adjustments."   
  
Jag had few dealings with human women, especially ones as headstrong as Jaina, but he operated under the assumption her pride would need some wooing to get her to admit the hunk of coral they were standing inside was not worthy of her flying skills. He raked her body with his eyes; the sight of the green gel laced across her body randomly, now causing some parts of her jumpsuit to cling to her skin, softened his demeanor instantly. The switch in his moods over the last several seconds was somewhat disarming, but Jag flowed with the steering currents in undeniable Fel fashion.   
  
"And how is that going?" he inquired politely.   
  
Her chin came up defiantly. "Great. No problems."   
  
Fierce brown eyes dared him to contradict her. He gazed into them, mesmerized by the simple changes in highlights that danced around her irises. Suddenly, the challenge was not a contradiction, but some mutual understanding. The yellow flecks darkened to a deep amber reminiscent of his father's best Corellian brandy. He had mistaken her initial rejection; there was only need residing in the depths of her soul, radiating out at him through those dark orbs.   
  
Without a thought, Jag found himself drowning and reached out to Jaina to steady himself. His right hand skimmed her cheek, coming to rest with his fingers curled in her hair and his thumb resting on the pulse point of her neck. Before she could utter a protest, Jag stifled it with his lips pressed firmly into hers. This was unlike the daydream earlier. She was real, and palpable, and wet, and all too warm.   
  
Jaina's mouth, already parted in a muffled response, accepted his tongue as it flicked tentatively across her teeth. Jag could make out every smooth contour and ripple as he tasted the minty flavor between the upper and lower rows of enamel. Unsure of his own brazen reaction, Jag began to retreat when Jaina threw her arms around his neck, drawing him back to her.   
  
Jag attacked this time; there was nothing tentative as his tongue danced with hers, only to be forced back by her own advances. The taste of her passion was all-consuming, until the press of her body from chest down to his hips seared into his consciousness. The green liquid permeated through his own clothes, drawing the heat from her body to his like a conduit. A heat so alive it radiated an electric charge Jag could only define as the raw fire of passion. He was almost too painfully aware of every inch of her form touching him, but that did not stop Jag from kissing Jaina.   
  
A need for air separated their lips momentarily, at which time Jag changed the angle of his kiss. He used the thumb of his free hand to wipe away a glob of gel from near her ear. When he sensed the tension the simple action caused through the bond of their kiss, Jag proceeded to drag the warm fluid along with his thumb, down her jaw line, under her chin and across the front of her neck.   
  
His mouth left her mouth, dragging his teeth along her lower lip first, and he laid a trail of kisses using his tongue and moist lips and sometimes his teeth to create the path. She tasted utterly delicious, and the subtle trace of her soap or body lotion filled his nostrils completely. Jag was completely lost to the temptation to devour Jaina whole. Jaina's goo-covered fingers, which had left his neck at some point, tickled in ripples through his dark hair. The sensation ripped down his scalp, and Jag bit her neck, before he used his tongue to sooth the spot.   
  
Jaina moaned, "Jag…"   
  
The sound was not one of ecstasy though. She sounded more annoyed. Jag panicked; maybe he had bitten her too hard. He did not know; he had never done something so brazen any other time with a female.   
  
"Jag, did you hear me? I said – Great. No problems."   
  
The moment that had at once appeared too real was suddenly too unattainable. Jaina was not in his arms, his uniform was still squeaky clean, and she was more annoyed than before by his apparent lack of attention.   
  
"Yes, I am sorry. I expected you to expound. In the CEDF, we are usually more explicit than 'Great. No problems.'"   
  
An awkward silence passed between them before Jag realized he had nothing to gain and only a huge chunk of his pride to lose by staying any longer. He would get further with Jaina at this rate by beating his head against the coral hull until he passed out cold at her feet. It was not hard to tell she was as anxious for him to leave as he was to take her in his arms and make his vision a reality.   
  
"I should leave you to your work."   
  
"Fine. Good. You do that."   
  
Jag inclined his head in a curt farewell before pivoting smartly on his heel. His stride, although as quick as on his arrival, lacked some of its lightness. As a matter of fact, every step further from Jaina felt like the dimming of some great hope. Jag Fel knew himself to be a fair-haired fool, taken in by a pretty face – a pretty face that had rendered his faculties useless. The only thing left for Jag to do was take a cold shower and forget the likes of Jaina Solo, forever.   
  
**********   
  
So there it is. You can see I added a little extra dialogue to suit my purpose, but I always thought there was something else going on during that "Ah." Now you know. 


	6. The Rules of Engagement

As always, I am tinkering in the world of the masterful Elaine Cunningham's Dark Journey, with the sole purpose of bringing the story in from a different angle - mainly Jag's. In doing so, I hope to show what I read between the lines that allowed the Jag in my own creation, Echoes of the Past, to be the man he was. This scene comes straight from pages 202-203. The dialogue and action are the same, only viewed from Jag's point of view, not Jaina's.   
  
Without further ado...

  
**THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT**  
  
_Tap.__ Tap. Tap_   
  
The sound of his knuckles hitting the coral hull was unusual in that it failed to resonate like the metal skins of an inorganic space vessel. Jag was unsure if the sound had even carried inside. That thought gave rise to a sudden desire to turn tail and make for the nearest exit. Jag was not even positive why he had come at all. The appearance of an annoyed looking brunette squashed his impulse flat.   
  
"I came for an apology." _Nice start, Fel._   
  
Jaina folded her arms. "Fine, but make it quick. I'm busy."   
  
Any hope that the events of yesterday were nothing more than an anomaly in their growing relationship disappeared with Jaina's response. Jag bristled immediately at the implication. "Actually, I came prepared to listen."   
  
Her eyebrows leapt up. "Then I hope your schedule is wide open, because you're likely to be standing there for a very long time. I didn't do anything wrong."   
  
_Yes, you did. You changed from that beautiful lady in red to some kind of demon toying with my heart._ "You deliberately tried to provoke an argument."   
  
"Yeah? So?"   
  
As Jag stared at her for a moment, he was caught between the urge to shake Jaina senseless and kiss the smart expression off her lips until she submitted to the unmistakable attraction between them. Replaying every moment of the banquet, there was no doubt in Jag's mind that some sparks had flown; he just wished Jaina would acknowledge them, too.   
  
He shoved a hand through his short black hair. "How did an Alderaanian princess end up with such a daughter?' Jag figured he was leaning toward the shaking her senseless despite his body's barely controlled reaction to her presence.   
  
Jaina's temper flared. "Do you want the short answer, or do you need someone to explain the details to you with charts and diagrams?"   
  
At that particular moment, Jag was sure his body new more about the how's and why's than Jaina could imagine in her wildest dreams. Although Jag could never be sure, something in the way she interacted with men in general suggested she was completely unaware of her sexual prowess. No man had made it deep enough past her shields to tap the potential buried within.   
  
The thought of tapping into that bud of promise caused spots of color to appear high on his cheeks. "That's not what I meant, as I am sure you know."   
  
A myriad of unwanted emotions swelled inside, rearing their ugly heads. Jag usually had better control of such feelings as anger, embarrassment and uncertainty, but they were dancing around, taunting his failing composure. He hated them all, most of all the ambiguity of his intentions. Did he have feelings for Jaina Solo, or had his unflappable pride been so sorely deflated by her dismissal previously that he was looking for restitution?   
  
A strange fog descended on Jag's mind, wiping all notions from his head. For a moment Jag forget what his actual intentions were. He furrowed his brows in concentration and glanced around puzzled by his surroundings.   
  
"Why are you here, Jag?"   
  
Jag faced the sound of the voice, and Jaina's pretty face came into sharp focus. There was no beauty in it, though, just a taunting glare, as if she were laughing at him in a strange, nightmare realm. The façade was surreal, forcing him to dig deep into the core of who he was to find firm ground on which to stand. Several heartbeats later, Jag's brain emerged from the haze, clarity returning like a bright, sunny day. He had come to Jaina searching for an answer, and she was handing it to him on a silver platter. It read – _Leave me alone._   
  
There was one faint hope Jag held like a lifeline. He composed himself quickly. "Tenel Ka told me that you will be training with Kyp Durron. Since Kyp flies under my command, may I assume that you will be joining the Vanguard Squadron?"   
  
"Tenel Ka was misinformed. So are you, if you think that Kyp does anything for anyone unless it suits him."   
  
Jag studied her for a long moment. He tried to hold the hope firm, but he could feel it slipping in his grasp. Jaina was a puzzle entirely too complicated for his life. Jag required simplicity and order, rules and regimen. Jaina was none of that. She played by her own rules and no one else's. It became clear in that realization that Kyp, Tenel Ka and Ta'a Chume, even himself, were all simply cards in her sabacc game of life. When it suited her purpose, Jaina would throw one out without a care. All she worried about was the winning hand. The fleeting hope slithered from his grip.   
  
"Assuming you are right, I get the impression that Kyp is not the only one playing some sort of game."   
  
"And winning," she added smugly. Her answer fit perfectly into his theory.   
  
Jag decided to cut his losses and run, not a typical Fel response, but warranted based on the terms of combat. No victorious outcome was plausible. It was time to cut his losses. Jaina would chew him up and spit him out like a field of grutchins, if he continued to engage on her playground. "Since that perception gives you such apparent satisfaction, I hope the rules of engagement can be modified for solitaire."   
  
He executed a deep and extremely formal bow. _Goodbye, Jaina Solo. How could I have been so wrong? Was it your beauty that drew me in or some Jedi-mind trick you bewitched me with? I hope I never see you again; you are the proof of my human weakness._ He pivoted sharply before strutting off as fast as his legs could manage without giving the appearance of fleeing the scene. Jag had found his question and his answer. Somehow, finding the truth was worse than the bliss of ignorance.   
  



	7. Underlying Truths

Again I am playing in Elaine Cunningham's world.  This scene coincides with pages 250-254 of Dark Journey.  I have expanded the scene to fill in some of the gaps.

  
**UNDERLYING TRUTHS**

  
_She has not seen you yet. Just turn around and walk away. No one will be the wiser._   
  
Jag's feet continued in their forward path, heading straight and sure for the oddly-formed coral frigate named, by Jaina, _Trickster_. All signs of the initial breach, caused by the joining to the pirate ship, were missing now. Unlike a repaired ship made of polymers and durasteel, this vessel showed no scars or shiny, new patches. Nearby, Jaina sat atop a crate, huddled over something that held her undivided attention.   
  
_You promised her mother you would deliver this message. Fels always keep their promises. Suck it up and deliver the message - short and sweet and to the point. Then get out of there as fast as you can._   
  
Jaina turned so that he got a good look at her profile. A loose braid fell over her shoulder, blocking most of her face. Jag's step faltered, a minor miss in its steady rhythm, but some undeniable force propelled him on, even when his inner child protested.   
  
_You never really promised; you just said you would be seeing Jaina._   
  
Jag mentally pinched himself. _No you made the foolish mistake of asking what you should tell Jaina. You could have gotten off easy, just delivering a message to that green-eyed, all-too-handsome Jedi. What was his name? Oh yeah, Zekk. I bet she has the hots for that one. Why would Jaina ever even consider a relationship with a Force-blind, fair-haired fool who insists on throwing himself at her feet when she can have any male Jedi in the galaxy? I bet he is just her type. As a matter of fact, that Zekk fellow made no bones about wanting to know what my interest in Jaina was. Kriff Jag, what ever possessed you to tell Princess Leia you would do this!_   
  
The slow turn of Jaina's head revealed a set of tightly pursed lips, which quickly turned down to a scowl. This was accompanied by a pair of piercing brown eyes that blazed right through Jag as though she could see into his confused heart. Jaina spoke before he reached her side.   
  
"Yes, I took one of your pilots. But Kyp is back and in reasonable working order. If you have any complaints, take them up with _him_." Jaina jerked a thumb in Lowbacca's direction.   
  
Jag followed the indicated direction of her gesture and met the sight of her enormous, ginger-haired Wookie pal rising, his massive arms capable of ripping a man in half folded one over the other as he issued a challenging stare. Jag gathered that between the Wookie and Jaina, his odds were slim to none of getting out unscathed. The distinct possibility of wounds, either physical or emotional, instantly prodded the protective barriers of old to rise in Jag's psyche. The Chiss mentality of giving little to your enemy, a practice schooled into his pilot's mind, caused him to dismiss the physical threat with little more than a passing glance.   
  
Jag turned his attention back to Jaina, determined to complete his grizzly task in a timely fashion and devise a hasty retreat. "I came with a message from your mother."   
  
Jaina cocked an eyebrow in interest and gestured for Jag to take a seat on a crate opposite her. "Been lowered to messenger boy, I see." Jag remained where he stood, his face the unflappable mask, not betraying how he truly was beginning to detest this task. Oddly, Jaina's expression softened just as his hardened. "Sorry, that was uncalled for. Please, sit. Tell me what news my mother sends. I am sure she and father must be off on some new adventure already. Perpetually the heroes, they rarely have time to stick around in one place. Tragedy or not, duty always calls."   
  
It was in that moment Jag glimpsed the wounded girl Jaina kept hidden from view behind her prickly exterior. Jag imagined that some part of her deep down wanted only to be loved and despite outward impressions, some part missed the family she pretended not to need. Without getting into the gory details of the battle, Jag related the story of the attack on Jaina's father. The widening of her eyes as he described the beating Han Solo received was not lost on the pilot.   
  
After Jag explained Leia's decision to leave Hapes, Jaina finally interrupted. "Where did they go?"   
  
"She said they would rejoin Luke Skywalker, and that you would know the location."   
  
"Makes sense," Jaina said absently. "How badly was my father hurt?"   
  
Jag detailed the injuries in a clinical tone, careful to supply enough information without getting into the bloody specifics. Even so, the lines around Jaina's eyes and mouth seemed to deepen in concern. Jag stifled the urge to close the distance between them and take the tiny hand resting on her knee as they sat face to face on the crates. He reminded himself that he was never part of her life and such dreams were unrealistic – mere flights of fantasy – even as he repeated the droid's assurances that the infamous Han Solo would indeed recover.   
  
"My mother must have been surprised," Jaina murmured as she rubbed her hand along the curve of her bent knee. "She always said Dad's skull was thicker than a Star Destroyer's hull."   
  
Recalling Leia's shock at Han's injury, Jag had to stifle a grin. "She intimated something along that line."   
  
Jaina shook her head as if to express some disappointment only she understood, then released a sigh that seemed to hold the weight of the galaxy in it. "Knowing my father, this might have started with some sort of misunderstanding. I'll talk to Ta'a Chume about it."   
  
The muscles around Jag's chest tightened at the thought. Despite his young age, he had developed an astute ability to read others early-on, a trait he had long admired in the great Grand Admiral Thrawn and aspired to emulate. Although with Jaina, that skill had been sorely lacking. Ta'a Chume was no doubt at the center of the Solos' troubles, just as Jaina's mother had expressed very diplomatically. Despite his decision to deliver Leia's message then excuse himself from Jaina Solo's life, Jag could not stop himself as he spoke.   
  
"Perhaps you should reconsider that."   
  
The softened features of Jaina's face, which had placated Jag into allowing his protective nature to overrule his usually unswayable willpower, hardened instantly, and a brilliant flash churned in her eyes, almost as if a fire burned beneath them. Jaina propped her fists on her hips.   
  
"Oh? And why's that?"   
  
Immediately on the defensive, Jag spoke before he thought. "I don't trust the former queen mother. Frankly, I'm rather surprised that you do."   
  
He instantly regretted the words. Jag took great pride in his ability to measure his words and temper. A sharp clatter drew both their eyes to the walkway overhead. The sight of the Jedi Princess staring down at them increased his internal flogging tenfold. Tenel Ka stood stock still, her face an unreadable mask sizing up the pair below. The air was filled with an electric tension while not one of them found suitable words to break the silence. Tenel Ka focused her gaze on Jag for the briefest of seconds, then spun on her heel, her red braid whipping to follow her hastily retreating feet.   
  
Jag scowled. "That was unforgivably tactless of me."   
  
Jaina's face became the harsh mask donned by a judge at sentencing. "I wouldn't worry about it. People who eavesdrop deserve what they hear."   
  
"Perhaps, but I should speak to her."   
  
Jag tipped his head to Jaina, disappointed in the fact he was leaving her even though he had resolved to make a clean break as soon as possible, and at the same time, eager to leave behind the person who was not at all what he had conjured in his mind. As he hurried after the retreating Hapan princess, Jag reminded himself that it was human nature to build people up, just as it was human nature for those set on pedestals to prove just how wrong our hopes could be.   
  
"Your Highness, a word."   
  
Thankfully, the red-haired Jedi stopped to face him, not at all the reaction Jag imagined would have transpired if he were pursuing Jaina. She would have made him chase her to the ends of the Hapes, Jag was sure. _Why must everything come back to her_, he pondered.   
  
"My name is Tenel Ka."   
  
"Of course." The answer was so unexpected; Jag was momentarily caught off-guard and could think of no better response. After not being able to discern a clear reason the Jedi princess would insist on dispersing with formalities, he quickly regrouped. "I wanted to apologize for the insult to your family. It was not my intention to gossip or offend."   
  
With her green eyes, Tenel Ka studied Jag for a moment. He felt like she was measuring him up to determine his very worthiness. In almost a dismissal, she spun and stalked off, for that was the only way to describe the Jedi's walk. Unexpectedly she summoned Jag over her shoulder. "Walk with me."   
  
By the first turn in the corridor leading away from the docking bay, Jag had caught her at a quick jog. He fell into step, finding her pace naturally similar to his own, purposeful and efficient.   
  
"You followed me from the docking bay, which is precisely what I hoped you would do. I observed you and Jaina together at the diplomatic dinner. It seems likely that she would assign more value to your opinion than mine."   
  
The very notion struck Jag as ironic at best. If only Jaina held him in some esteem, he would not be in the predicament he found himself in. "I haven't noticed that. Perhaps Jaina Solo's regard is one of those mysteries only Jedi can perceive."   
  
Tenel Ka pursed her lips, and a troubled light shone dimly in her eyes. "Of late, Jaina has been…difficult. The last time we spoke, Jaina and I disagreed on several matters. We seem to be at a point where neither of us can see a way to reconcile our differences. My grandmother has been more than accommodating to my friend, especially in light of her usual disposition toward my Jedi friends in the past. Therefore, I can only conclude my grandmother perceives some gain in pursuing a relationship with Jaina. What that may be is a question worthy of finding an answer."   
  
Jag pondered the variables. "I fail to distinguish what edge Ta'a Chume can gain from winning Jaina's confidences. Your grandmother has seceded the thrown in rightful succession. Maybe the former queen mother is merely bored with her own status and sees some usefulness in mentoring Jaina, who she perceives as like-minded."   
  
"My grandmother might be an old woman," she noted, "but do not take Ta'a Chume lightly. There is always more than what you see. What concerns me is that there is probably much more to her current plans than even Jaina realizes."   
  
"I see." Jag perceived there was more that the Jedi was trying to tell him, but he was slow to grasp it. "The attack on Han Solo puzzled me. Though I know Prince Isolder once courted Leia, I don't see why Ta'a Chume would go to such extremes on her son's behalf."   
  
Tenel Ka stood for a moment as if undecided on how to proceed. Then she bobbed her head in a curt nod and motioned for Jag to follow her. He fell into step beside her, realizing he was being dragged once again into Jaina's life. This time, he felt like fate was pulling him down in a vortex that he was helpless to resist. The degree of weight Tenel Ka applied to her decision made this fact evident.   
  
They took a landspeeder to the palace and then made their way to the opulent chambers of the queen. "This is my mother's favorite room," Tenel Ka said, and pushed open a massive door.   
  
Jag peered inside the darkened room. The luxury was apparent, but there was some degree of comfort, a sense of home in the trappings. Glancing from the immense bed that would engulf any occupant to the small sitting table with gilded hair brushes at the other end, he assumed the room was empty.   
  
"There," the Jedi said softly, indicating a chair nearly hidden in a curtained alcove.   
  
Jag just barely made out the outline of a person, so still that one might dismiss her as part of the furnishings. Her slumped appearance attested to the woman's lack of participation in life as it was happening before her. Two eyes stared sightlessly into the air, not sparing a glance for the two visitors as they entered the room and headed her way.   
  
Tenel Ka stooped over the chair. "We have a visitor, Mother."   
  
The woman's brown eyes flicked up to Jag and then returned to the window. She might as well have been absent as Tenel Ka spoke about the plight of the refugees, the Consortium's worries, and the attempts to rebuild the fleet. As the daughter concluded her discourse, any hope of her mother's input faded away with her voice.   
  
Tenel Ka leaned forward and touched her forehead to her mother's. Jag saw the deeply buried sadness flash across the young woman's face as her last attempt to make a connection failed. She quickly kissed her mother's cheek and rose, striding out the door without glancing back at Jag.   
  
He followed her to the door. When it closed behind them, Tenel Ka leaned against it. Her eyes drifted shut, pinching out the pain welling up from her soul. "This is the woman who will command the defense of Hapes. Do you understand why my grandmother wishes to replace her?"   
  
The Jedi's intentions for bringing Jag there were beginning to become apparent as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "Princess Leia will never accept such a role."   
  
Tenel Ka's eyes flew open; the furrow of her brow reflected some disappointment she perceived. "Is that what you think is happening?"   
  
Jag usually had a good read of situations, but by Tenel Ka's reaction it was apparent she believed he was missing the bigger picture. Jag could not believe he was that far a field in his assessment of the unfolding events. "What other interpretation is there?"   
  
"I know my grandmother. She will never fully relinquish the throne. Perhaps she envisions ruling a second time, through someone younger and more tractable than either my mother or Princess Leia."   
  
On first listen, Jag's thoughts turned to Jaina. She definitely fit the description of younger. The other point in relation to Jaina was enough to cause Jag to chuckle. "Up to a certain point, logic suggests you're describing Jaina Solo. But only up to a point! _Tractable_ is not a word that readily comes to mind when her name is mentioned."   
  
"Fact," the Jedi agreed. "Still, it is something to consider."   
  
A mental image of Jaina strolling down a path between columns of her subjects flashed before his eyes. She was dressed in a gown of the finest purple shimmersilk, the bodice modest and form fitting, the skirt flaring out to a long train dragging behind. For a moment she was the picture of decorum nodding discreetly to her subjects as they bowed and curtsied. Then, one courtesan moved a hair too slow, and Jaina's look changed from the serene expression of a monarch adept at dealing with all manner of people to a fiery woman who dare not be challenged. Jag shook his head to banish the disturbing image.   
  
"Let's assume that she agreed to this. How would she go about gaining the throne?"   
  
"Since no daughters were born to Ta'a Chume, Prince Isolder is the legal heir to the throne. His wife rules."   
  
Up to this point in the conversation Jag had handled the flow, even as it had steered into new waters. The idea of Jaina marrying Prince Isolder, a man old enough to be her father, floored him. After a moment, it occurred to Jag that he was gaping like a Mon Calamari. He shut his mouth so abruptly that his teeth clicked. "Prince Isolder would agree to this?"   
  
"He may not have a choice," Tenel Ka said grimly. "If she decides that this is a good path to power, she will find a way to take it."   
  
"Ta'a Chume has that much power?"   
  
The Jedi regarded him somberly. "I was not speaking of my grandmother."   
  
Jag could not think of anything appropriate to say. He simply stood there and stared wide-eyed at Tenel Ka. In essence, this Jedi and friend for some time to Jaina, a person that knew her much better than he could claim, was stating plain as day that Jaina was in fact slipping down a slippery slope. How could he rightly argue with the Jedi princess? What facts could he bring to light that would sway her feelings? Ultimately, he believed none. Desperation had brought Tenel Ka to this point; she had turned to him for help.   
  
"If your fears are true, I do not see how my influence can sway Jaina from her chosen path. For if things truly are as you say, I have misjudged Jaina Solo and the person she is."   
  
Tenel Ka let out a sigh. "No, you have not misjudged my friend. She has simply lost sight of who that person is. What we saw on Myrkr, what happened there…" Her voice tapered off, and Tenel Ka seemed to choke on the memories. She glanced away for a second before meeting Jag's stare. The fact that she needed him to understand obviously outweighing the cost of dredging up memories better left untouched. "What we saw was worse than anyone could ever imagine. I tell you this so you may better understand what terrible things haunt her soul every waking moment and I am sure torture her dreams at night."   
  
Tenel Ka seemed to slip into some nightmare of her own as she recalled in detail the events of Myrkr, right down to Anakin's sacrifice to save his sister. "Jaina should have died, but Anakin saved her. He traded his life for hers. I think she lost the person she was at that moment. Jacen would have suffered the loss like Jaina, but it was not his life that was spared in the act of Anakin's death. Jacen and Jaina were two sides of a coin; without one side, the coin simply feels worthless. She would have leaned on him, and together they would have been all right." Tenel Ka finally stopped, unable to share her pain any further.   
  
"But I am not even what you would call a friend; she won't let me get that close. How can you expect me to make a difference? I have no reason to believe she assigns a higher value to my opinion than yours, which she has blatantly dismissed."   
  
Tenel Ka's eyes flicked over him for a moment. "You may not see that, but when I see you two together there is…" She inhaled sharply, the sound betraying the depth of emotion behind the words. "There is a spark, something I know is missing from my life now that Jacen is gone, but since I miss it, I can recognize it. Sometimes, as a Jedi, we can see things beyond the reality before our eyes. I believe you recognize what I know is true. If that is the case, only you can mend Jaina's heart and help her find the part of her she lost on Myrkr."   
  
"I don't understand what it is you expect from me?"   
  
Tenel Ka's smile was rueful. "I suppose it is not my place to say. Every man must find his own path, but may I suggest that you stop fighting the current of your life so hard and allow it to take you for the ride intended for you. Obviously, something brought you out of the Unknown Regions. Something guided you here, to this place and time. Maybe you don't believe in the Force, maybe you call it fate or destiny or by some other name. Trust in that. If you do, I think you will find the answers you seek."   
  
Then, Tenel Ka reached forward and grabbed Jag by the hand. The touch was unexpected to say the least, but Jag did not pull away. "Don't make the same mistake I made; don't let it pass you by."   
  
Jag stared straight into her green eyes, a single tear hung in the balance on the rim of her right eye. "What?"   
  
Tenel Ka squeezed his hand. A sudden strange glowing sensation filled him, starting at his heart and spreading out slowly to fill him with a comfortable warmth. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever known; it was like a breath of fresh air, strong and true. At that moment, Jag felt like a door opened in his soul and some emotions that he had buried since Davin and Cherith's deaths rose to the surface. The answer to his question filled his very being in the forming of a simple connection.   
  
On some level, a bond had been struck with Jaina, a link that did not allow him the luxury of walking away. Some undeniable force had bullied him at every turn to step beyond his comfort zone. Even so, with all the distress and mayhem Jaina dispatched in his life, something felt fundamentally right. He felt whole deep in that place Tenel Ka had touched briefly, his heart. And it was then he recognized that his heart was the driving force in all of his recent out-of-character behavior. The only way to be faithful to his heart's quest would be to discover what this feeling burning deep in its core truly was, be it friendship or something stronger. Perhaps, if he stopped fighting it and allowed the emotion to take shape in the confines of his life's structure, in his comfort zone, Jag would find the answers he sought.   
  
Tenel Ka lowered her head as if she sensed he had found the answer, then let go of Jag's hand. The sensation vanished instantly, but now Jag knew what underlying truth had brought him to this point. If he was ever going to live with himself, Jag could not afford to run away from whatever lie ahead, and that was precisely what he had been doing. One way or another Jag would find out who the person Jaina intended to be – the one she was or the one her friends and family feared she might become - but if he had any say, it would be the former rather than the latter.   
  
Tenel Ka swept her hand, gesturing down the hall with an open palm. "Come, my friend. There are answers waiting to be found."   
  
Together, the two warriors walked down the hall; their pace slower than before, both comfortable in the silence and in their newfound friendship.   
  
  



	8. I Know

Again this is Elaina Cunningham's and GL's world, I just play in it. The dialogue and some text are straight from the book Dark Journey.   
  
Please enjoy! 

  
**I KNOW... **

  
After spending the better part of a day contemplating what role he wanted to play in the unfolding events of Jaina's life, Jag had finally made up his mind to approach the matter cautiously. As he walked through the Hapan military district, heading for the docking bay housing the _Trickster_, Jag reminded himself to keep expectations to a minimum and not to expect success on his first venture. Whatever connection he perceived in his mind was obviously a one-way process at this point, despite Tenel Ka's belief otherwise. Jag had decided to give simple friendship a try, then see where it took him.   
  
Stepping through the open doorway leading into the docking bay, Jag was immediately confronted by the sound of humming energy, followed by a distinct snap, as if some large burst of power had been dispelled. Concealed somewhat by the shadow of the stairway leading into the catwalks, he crept forward, a hand at his blaster, ready to jump into action at a moment's notice.   
  
To his utter surprise, the sight of Master Durron lunging at Jaina with a slashing attack confronted his eyes. Several thoughts raced through Jag's mind. Never one to make the mistake of underestimating a situation or his opponent, he quickly reviewed and discarded several possibilities in the course of a few seconds, ranging from Kyp turning dark, or likewise Jaina, to the simple explanation of a Master-apprentice sparring match.   
  
As his brain turned ideas over, Jag's eyes never left the scene. Blocking a downward blow, Jaina twisted with feline grace, sending the male Jedi's sword out harmlessly from her body. Kyp disengaged and stepped back. "Who said I wanted to stop the mission? I want to fly it."   
  
Jaina lowered her weapon slightly, her back to Jag. He could barely make out her reply. "You do?"   
  
"If the mission is that important, I'll go myself."   
  
Jaina raised her weapon back toward a protective stance. "Forget it. The Jedi are too few and too valuable to risk."   
  
"I know…" The rest of Kyp's words were lost behind the hum of Jaina's lightsaber as she waved it casually in front of her body. "…want my apprentice to make some of the same mistakes I made."   
  
Jag's shoulders eased slightly. So this was all simply a Master-apprentice sparring match. His deduction, and the least cause for concern, was correct after all. Jag started to turn and make his way for the door, figuring another time would be more appropriate for making his initial approach, when he was captivated by the sight of Jaina lunging forward in an aggressive strike. "What apprentice? You haven't beaten me yet."   
  
Kyp was forced to parry or be cleaved in two. "I will," he said with a cocky smile. "And we both know it. We also know how difficult expectations can be. You've got to live up to your famous parents, which in some ways is even more difficult than living down a monumental failure."   
  
No amount of reasoning would sway Jag from witnessing the culmination of the Jedi's seductive dance. He was captivated by the lithe agility of Jaina's attacks, but at the same time, he desperately needed to know where this conversation was going. Perhaps, he could find some clue to approaching her, to convince her to stay away from the lure of power laid before her by the former queen mother.   
  
"You can't compare our situations." Jaina batted away a mid-torso strike, spinning with the effort. She sashayed away to recover her bearings, her lightsaber sweeping wide.   
  
"We both lost brothers." Kyp stalked her momentary retreat.   
  
Jaina lunged in a renewed attack, both hands aiding in the backhanded sweep of the weapon. "And maybe hitting…" Their lightsabers made contact at that very second, as if to emphasize the point. "…the Yuuzhan Vong hard will give some meaning to my brothers' deaths."   
  
Jag's brow furrowed. _There was no meaning in death, only pain._ He had learned that fact the hard way. He understood though that Jaina could only discover this truth on her own. No amount of explaining would change the fact that some lessons were meant to be learned the hard way.   
  
"I tried to avenge my brother," Kyp reminded her, "and I ended up killing him. Your mother thinks Jacen's still alive. What if she's right?"   
  
Jag was stunned by the Master's last admission. The day of the _Trickster's_ crash landing, he had more or less assured Jag that Jacen was dead despite Leia's feelings. Now Kyp was offering the admission as a treat to entice Jaina out of her self-imposed pit of despair. The tactic seemed outright cruel, especially to a man who had lost two siblings of his own. Imagining a glimmer of hope squashed back down to reality when a dead sibling failed to reappear was unbearable.   
  
Jaina lowered her lightsaber, unexpectedly. Jag wished he could see her face. Was she stunned or angry? He held his breath in anticipation of her next move, which would truly reveal the answer one way or another. Likewise, Kyp shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, gaining balance in preparation for some impending attack he must have sensed. Jag guessed angry – very angry.   
  
In a startling move, Jaina switched off her weapon. Even Kyp's face reflected a degree of surprise. "You want the mission? Take it. But you'd better survive it. We're not done here. Not by a long shot."   
  
Jag lost sight of the astonished Jedi Master as he realized Jaina was heading directly for another back door. Stepping out from under the staircase, he sprinted across the distance on impulse, catching her just before she reached the back exit. Jag skidded to a stop, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what to say. Jaina eyed him warily.   
  
"I came to thank you for your help," he said. This very line had been one of several he had tossed around in his head on the way over. It must have stuck for it was the first thought to cross his mind. Jag figured a simple gesture of gratitude would seem unobtrusive, but still imply some degree of intimacy, and possibly lead to further discussion.   
  
"What are you talking about?"   
  
A quick mental check dropped Jag back into his carefully guarded persona. Jaina was confused; for the moment he held the upper hand. His confidence grew. At least, she had not taken her lightsaber to him yet. That bode for a productive start.   
  
"Word has it that you've been recruiting Hapan pilots, getting them back into the skies. I don't have enough scouts to cover this area. Every set of eyes helps. And when the time comes to fight, there will be more pilots prepared and aware."   
  
Jag congratulated himself. He had succinctly complimented Jaina, and opened the door for her to participate in a discussion without initially touching on any difficult subjects. It would now be up to Jaina to drive the conversation in the direction she wanted. He knew Tenel Ka wanted him to help her friend resolve some issues, but Jaina had to open the door first.   
  
As if to reward his measure of control, Jaina's icy stare softened. The lines around her mouth faded and a kinder undertone warmed her eyes. The subtle change was remarkable to Jag. In the matter of a few seconds, Jaina became the vision of beauty he had conjured many times in his dreams, not the avenging angel he confronted in the harsh light of day.   
  
"We all do what we can." The simple statement projected a warm quality and a profound sadness in the same breath.   
  
"You and your family have given more than most," he observed. Jag watched as her shoulders dropped and a haunted expression crossed her face at the mention of family. He toyed with the possibility that it simply was too early to broach the next subject, but in times of war, time itself became a precious commodity, especially when Jaina was sliding beyond his grasp quicker and quicker. He gambled.   
  
"Forgive me, but I heard what Kyp Durron said to you. I know how difficult these times can be. I, too, lost two siblings in battle." There, he had shown his own vulnerability. The deaths of Davin and Cherith were not a subject Jag openly discussed with anyone, not his parents or even Shawnkyr, but he would relive the pain and open the fresh wound if he could relate to Jaina on some basic level.   
  
Jaina bristled immediately, one of many reactions he had coolly calculated in the milliseconds before. "So what are you saying? That my loss is no greater than anyone else's? Anakin and Jacen are no more important than any other casualty."   
  
He had taken the gamble, and it had unfortunately backfired. After the fact, Jag noted this was not the sort of truth she was ready to absorb at the moment. Every person passed through the stages of mourning at different rates. His test showed she was still in the mad-at-the-galaxy stage. He knew that stage well. Jag backed away from that line, lowering his eyes respectfully.   
  
"That's not what I intended to portray."   
  
Her ire faded quickly. "Forget it." She blew her bangs away from her eyes, a small gesture that seemed incredibly weary. "So why did you come? You're not usually one for small talk."   
  
To be sure, Jag found himself in a dilemma of immense proportions. Jaina knew him well enough to recognize he was not one to dally with the pretense of sharing a shallow discussion, but he pondered how he could broach his true intentions without simply blurting out, "Don't marry Prince Isolder."   
  
The wisest course of action, he concluded, this after hours of soul-searching combined with a cursory assessment of her mental state, was to appeal to the born leader in her. He had, of course, already complemented her for acquiring new pilots, and she had responded positively. He decided to petition her vanity once again, to illustrate to the practical side of her pilot's mind that she did not need to be Queen of Hapes to fulfill her goals.   
  
"You have a natural gift for leadership." Her pupils widened slightly, a study of humans revealed this as a genuine sign of a willingness to listen. "People will follow you, whether you want them to or not. Rank is not important to someone like you."   
  
Jaina's face went very still, and Jag waited for a sign. "This is all very interesting, but where is it going?"   
  
Jag took her initial reaction as a good sign, her weapon was still clipped to her belt and the usual fiery blaze that accompanied Jaina's tendency to take issues personally was pleasantly absent. He proceeded.   
  
"I just wanted to express an opinion," he said, feeling incredibly awkward at this stage. Jag was still skirting into territory more appropriate for two people who were sharing a relationship more akin to friendship, not fellow pilots caught up in a casual conversation.   
  
He balled his fists and sucked it up. _You are knee deep in it now, Fel. Best shoot the torpedo and see if it hits the mark. So far she has been receptive._ "The rank you were born with suits you very well. Anything more would be redundant." Once the words were out, Jag released on unaudible sigh.   
  
"I see," she said in a flat tone, not a hint of fight just some strange acceptance. Then she stared directly into his eyes. "Coming from the son of Baron Fel – a jumped-up Corellian dirt farmer – that's worth about as much as Ithorian currency."   
  
The insult to his father, who Jag held above all others, was enough to fuel his temper. "Why must you take offense at every turn?"   
  
The familiar flash ignited beneath the surface of Jaina's ever-changing demeanor, but there was something else there, too. He thought it was pain; she had the look of someone who had been punched in the gut. "Why must you answer questions that no one bothered to ask?"   
  
_That was hurt. Oh what have I done? I never meant to hurt you, I merely wanted to show you that being Queen was beneath you._   
  
Jaina turned and fled from the hangar. Her pace was impossibly fast, some Force-assisted skill he assumed. Jag reflected on the monumental failure that he could call his own. For some reason, every opportunity with Jaina seemed to end dismally, from the state dinner to today. Turning to leave the hangar, Jag's step was slow and defeated. He replayed the scene in his mind, looking for the turning point.   
  
Amazingly his thoughts did not dwell on the ending but rather the good points – the way she blew her bangs and the softening of her expression as he complimented her. _Sweet Force, she is so beautiful._ It wasn't just the beauty though, but the power and skill and fire seething below the surface that made Jaina burn hotter than others. She was untouchable, but like a Ployi moth to the flame, he wanted to get burned.   
  
Images raced through his mind - Jaina in the red dress twirling out from his grasp, Jaina covered in green goo, her smile as she accepted his lunch invitation on the _Chimaera_. Those few moments were worth the cost. Bolstered by Tenel Ka's confidence, Jag remembered his conviction earlier to not let a single, poor showing sway him from the task at hand. Jag had decided his course; he had determined the quest worthy. His step now buoyed with confidence and his chin rose purposefully. As long as he was still flying, there was a chance, and, in that regard, Jaina Solo had certainly met her match in Jagged Fel.   
  
  
  
  



	9. Fixing Things

This is a missing scene from Dark Journey. It is directly before the mission to test Jaina's new invention that tricks the Vong craft into giving off the _Trickster's_ gravitic signal. Again I am working with Elaine Cunningham's world. Hope you enjoy... 

  
**FIXING THINGS**

  
Stretching as far into the engine compartment as his arm would permit within the confines of the hatch, Jag reached until he felt the particulator's coolant line. His fingertips immediately met with the viscous feel of leaking fluid. Blindly fumbling his way down the hose, he found the attachment housing loose to the touch. He tightened the casing as much as he could with his fingers before withdrawing his arm.   
  
It took some degree of wriggling to get his shoulders and head out of the hatch. Turning to step off the borrowed crate that allowed Jag to just get his head and upper body in through the opening in order to work on the engine, he looked down to ensure that no tools were underfoot in the area in which he intended to land. Oddly, two small, booted feet stepped, one and then the other, into his line of sight. He had to duck under the fuselage to see who the unexpected guest was.   
  
After a moment of unguarded shock, Jag closed his mouth subtly. Standing before him, Jaina stood in a black jumpsuit trimmed in blue piping, her hair plopped loosely atop her head in a hairclip. Her expression was one of implied interest as she studied the lines of his ship until her eyes turned toward him.   
  
Jag was glad she was momentarily distracted so that by the time their eyes met, he was fully in control of his faculties once again. "Hello, Jaina."   
  
She tipped her head to acknowledge the greeting. "Hey. I bet I am the last person you expected to see."   
  
Jag stepped off the crate so he not towering over Jaina. "Considering it is after midnight and I believe you have devoted your every waking second to the Yuuzhan Vong frigate, it would be safe to assume yes."   
  
A rueful smile crossed Jaina's lips, but she also appeared somewhat unsettled, to the best of Jag's determination. "What you meant to say was, not after the way we parted yesterday."   
  
Jag raised an eyebrow in respect for her candor. "That, too, I suppose. It serves me right though, for answering questions I was never asked."   
  
Jaina wrung her hands nervously. "Well, what's done is done. I really shouldn't take things so personally. I'm sure you were just trying to spare me by sharing your infinite wisdom."   
  
Jag forced his eyes to stay centered on Jaina's face while he used his peripheral vision to look for other outward signs of her mental state. From her statement, he was not sure if she was heading for another confrontation, or merely offering her own apology of sorts. In that regard, he always found Jaina a difficult read.   
  
Reaching for a rag, Jag wiped the slick fluid off his hands. He maintained eye contact as he spoke. "Just out for an evening stroll, then?"   
  
"Not really." She paused.   
  
"Or, couldn't help yourself when you saw my fighter?" Jag quipped when he saw her falter.   
  
Jaina gazed up, her eyes making a quick study of the underside of the clawcraft with the look of adoration only possible for a true pilot. In that regard, she was a kindred spirit, one who only knew true happiness in the freedom of the cockpit. Finally she turned back to smile at him. Remarkably, it was quite sincere.   
  
"She is a beauty. I can't say I am partial to Imperial TIE models, being a Rebel and all, but what the Chiss have done is close to a work of art."   
  
Jaina rubbed her fingertips lovingly across the blade edge of the nearest wing. Shivers ran down Jag's spine unexpectedly. The love and tenderness she put into the caress would have undone his manhood for certain. The accompanying hot flash that ran to his cheeks forced Jag to turn away. Leaning down in order to hide his face, he fumbled through the tools.   
  
"Well, my work of art is just that until I get her fixed." He found the hydrospanner he was searching for, then stood, now in full control of his body's unacceptable fluctuations in surface temperature control.   
  
Jaina's interest was instantly piqued by the mention of his fighter's condition as was evident in the wideness of her eyes. He thought there might even have been an uncharacteristic twinkle. "What's wrong with her?"   
  
For a moment, Jag studied the way Jaina palmed the wing with a look of concern, like the fighter was injured or had feelings. Human pilots, himself included, had for centuries referred to their craft, be it ship or fighter or boat, in the feminine form. Jag had always wondered if it was some male need to bond and form a partnership. From Jaina's expression, it was more like the fighter was a place of safety and growth reminiscent of the womb. The craft was a nurturer, and that inherently made it female. The vessels nurtured humankind's very existence.   
  
Jag twirled the tool in his hand absent-mindedly. "The particulator's coolant line keeps coming loose at the attachment housing. I haven't had the time to drop the port engine and find the source of the problem. Every so often, though, I get a warning light in the cockpit, and I find myself tightening it up."   
  
"That could be a problem if you have to cut back the particle flow in the middle of a furball."   
  
Jag pointed the hydrospanner to a plasma burn along the ventral port wing. "Tell me about it."   
  
Studying the scar, Jaina grimaced. "Ouch. That's a little too close for comfort." She turned her face back to Jag. He thought he saw a faint flash of worry evident in the slight furrow between her brows. It was gone too soon to be sure. "May I have a look?"   
  
"Well, this fighter is not like your snubfighters working on a twenty year old design. Most of the components are state-of-the-art…"   
  
Jaina waved a hand. "Never mind. Sorry I asked."   
  
Jag took the interruption in stride and tried to explain himself. "You should be…"   
  
Jaina propped her hands on her hips. "I should be, huh? Let me tell you something, Mr. Chiss, I have worked on TIE fighters before. As a matter of fact, I put one together all by myself a few years back. And I have been taking apart and putting the _Falcon_ back together for as long as I can remember. My dad says there is no one better when it comes to fixing ships, and I respect his opinion above all else. I suppose that skill only applies to our _ancient_ Rebel ships, though."   
  
Her eyes dared him to contradict her. For a moment, Jag felt the little monster called frustration rear its ugly head, then he squashed it with a chuckle. He was sure laser beams were going to burst forth from her pupils at any second; the thought caused his laugh to grow.   
  
Throwing her hands up, Jaina exclaimed, "I should have known this was a waste of time. Why would you ever want to help me, if I am so far…" Jag's laughter grew with every passing second. The more he tried to stifle it, the redder and more self-engrossed in the actual event he became. "…down in your estimation?" With that, she turned to stomp off.   
  
"If you must know, I hold you in very high esteem."   
  
Jag fought valiantly to quiet his bobbing shoulders and convulsing diaphragm as Jaina coolly about-faced. There was still a cold gleam in her eyes, but the lasers had powered down, for the moment. "That's difficult to tell from your actions."   
  
"I don't think so."   
  
"Well maybe on Csilla they do things differently…"   
  
Jag's face suddenly became very firm, his body rigid. It was an ingrained defense mechanism he could never fight when he felt backed into a corner, and for some reason, Jaina always put him in that position. "If you will just let me get a word in edgewise, I might be able to explain."   
  
The sound of his curt outburst caused Jaina's mouth to slam shut. Jag inhaled sharply once through his nose, taking her silence as a sign to continue. "I started to say you should be able to visualize the actual hose attachment since your smaller build will allow you further into the engine compartment. Maybe you can even tighten it for me since it is a cumbersome task doing it blindly."   
  
Jaina was obviously not completely convinced as evident by the set of her mouth. "And before that?"   
  
Jag felt the heat of his temper's fire rise all the way to the tip of his ears. She must have sensed this, for Jaina actually drew back her head as if he might burn her right back with his own eye-socket laser beams.   
  
"I was going to explain that the components are state-of-the-art, but still resemble the old Rebellion-age TIE design to a degree. I don't think a woman of your mechanical talent would be unable to draw comparisons."   
  
With the wind completely blown out of her sails, Jaina's shoulders lowered from around her ears at the same time that her posture relaxed. "Oh."   
  
She looked so guilty that Jag's disposition softened immediately. "I would be most appreciative if you would offer your assistance in repairing my clawcraft."   
  
Jaina stared up with her big brown eyes, blinking once slowly to rinse away the watery sheen that had made them appear sadder still. Finally, after a pregnant pause, she nodded once. "Sure."   
  
Jag stepped aside and made room for Jaina to climb up the crate under the access hatch. Jag's head reached just under the fighter's hull when he stood on the crate, but Jaina, being a head shorter, had to reach her arms straight up to even get her hands in the access hatch. Recognizing the dilemma, Jag quickly scanned the vicinity for any extra crates. By the time he turned back to Jaina, she was already halfway immersed in the hatch, her legs dangling out the opening.   
  
Duly impressed, Jag stepped forward and stared up. It took only a moment for his eyes and thoughts to drift places other than the ailments afflicting his port engine. His eyes wandered aimlessly across the outline of her figure that was left open for closer inspection; the rest of Jaina wriggled and wrestled around out of sight and definitely out of mind.   
  
The echoing of Jaina's voice snapped Jag back from his reverie. "It's definitely the attachment housing that's loose, but your problem is that the extension arm has broken at the weld."   
  
She grunted as she shifted position. A second later she was falling out of the hole. As she landed and righted her balance, she continued her thought. "If you have a hand welder, I could fix it in a heartbeat."   
  
Standing on the crate, Jaina was at Jag's eye level. He had not really been this close since the diplomatic dinner. He was instantly enthralled by virtue of the proximity to her. He noticed first that her hair had escaped the clip, flowing down like a beautiful caf waterfall. Then, he took in the streak of grease and dirt smudged across her left cheek. The harshness of the stain did little to mar the smooth definition of her skin, but rather offset it and increased its inherent beauty. As a strange, quizzical expression crossed her brow and crept down into her eyes, Jag realized he was staring with a silly smile smacked to his lips, teased there at the recollection of a happier moment in time.   
  
"Oh, right. I have one of those." Jag pivoted away suddenly before he found more than his eyes were captivated by the seductive trappings. Trying to focus, Jag quickly catalogued the extensive tool collection laid out before him. He spotted the welder, then bent to pick it up.   
  
As his hand met the handle, a thought occurred to him. "I don't have a face shield here." He stood with the welder in his hand.   
  
Jaina held her hand out, beckoning with her fingers. "I don't really need one."   
  
"But you can't weld the piece with your eyes closed…"   
  
Jaina's snort brought his sentence to a grinding halt. "Actually, I can. Jedi, remember?" She pressed her outstretched hand once again. "May I?"   
  
"If you are sure it will be all right. I would never want any harm to come to you."   
  
Jaina did not answer, just blinked once. He knew the answer. It was the first time Jag had ever felt like he could read between the lines that locked Jaina's soul in her self-made prison.   
  
Reluctantly, Jag placed the welder in her hand. Their fingers touched for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough of a touch to send his senses reeling. Flashes of Jaina holding his hand as they escaped the crowd at the diplomatic dinner blurred his vision like a jolt of instant juice. Sensory and memory inputs suddenly went into hyperdrive. The sensation was so palpable he could feel the steady increase of the rhythm of his heart and the catch in his lungs occur with vivid detail.   
  
Then, it was suddenly gone. Two became one; one became lonely. The beat of his heart calmed, and his breath regulated. The pleasurable burn of Jaina's touch vanished as she withdrew her hand and the welder with it. She turned swiftly, putting her back to him once again, but Jag was sure he saw the same wild blaze in her eyes, accompanied by the blush of her stained cheeks as her face disappeared from sight.   
  
Jaina tossed the welder up into the engine compartment. The precision of the throw and the resulting impossibly quiet landing led Jag to imagine that there was some Force-skill, possibly telekinesis, involved. He watched as Jaina swung her arms and bent her knees, springing toward the hatch with amazing power. She grabbed the rim of the opening and used the momentum of her jump to end propped with her hipbones flush to the opening's edge and her torso inside the hatch. Jag gazed in wonder, knowing there was no way he could make that jump, especially not without the degree of accuracy she exhibited.   
  
Jaina shifted the weight on her hands and hips until she could lift the welder in her free right hand. The top half of her was swallowed by the darkness of the engine compartment. For a minute, Jag waited patiently as she adjusted her position several times in between attempts to start the welder. He remained quiet until he heard her mutter a curse.   
  
"Do you need anything?"   
  
Her voice resonated out of the compartment. "Yeah, another hand." He heard her huff. "I just can't get in the right position to operate the welder without falling over for lack of support."   
  
"Can't you levitate or something?"   
  
Jaina laughed twice. "Oh, so first we go from thinking Force-blind to thinking Jedi. Yeah, I suppose I could, but between welding blindly and levitating, I need to be a little more focused than I am. Go get Kyp if you want feats of masterful proportions tonight, Jag."   
  
"Let me see what I can find." Jag furrowed his brows as Jaina wiggled and shifted overhead. His eyes scanned the area for any item that might remotely resemble a ladder or repulsor sled. His initial inspection revealed nothing, so Jag yelled back at Jaina. "I don't see anything. I will go look around."   
  
"Wait. Don't bother. I have an idea." She was bent over so she could look at him as she spoke. "All I need is for you to support my legs.  That will free both my hands."   
  
"Oh-o-kay." For the first time in his life, Jag stuttered.   
  
Grinning back down out of the hole, Jaina replied, "Ready when you are." Then her toothy lop-sided smile, which lit up the universe, in Jag's estimation, when she decided to flash it, disappeared as Jaina contorted back around so she was once again facing the particulator.   
  
Jag stared up at the form of Jaina's trim legs hanging down, his mouth agape with an utter sense of uncertainty. He managed to have the presence of mind to somehow get himself situated on the crate, his legs firmly planted for balance, but that proved only to increase his predicament for now he was so close to Jaina he could practically feel the heat from her. Or was it from him, he wondered.   
  
"Uh, how do you want me to do this?"   
  
"Just grab hold, flyboy."   
  
Never one to disobey orders, Jag inhaled sharply and did just that. He flung his arms around Jaina's dangling legs in one swift motion. The act nearly took his breath away, then he realized he had simply stopped breathing as a bevy of sensations assaulted his unsuspecting nerve center. There was no way Jag would be able to hear Jaina talk to him over the roar of his beating heart filling his ears. A heat bloomed from some part deep inside that Jag had prided himself on controlling. Now with Jaina in his arms, all power he had over his body and mind fled in an instant. It was heaven, and it was hell.   
  
Jag barely noticed Jaina's weight settle against him or the slight shifts in her position as she performed her task. What he did notice was the firm, defined muscles hidden beneath the loose fall of her jump suit. Oh what he would have given to just feel the silky lay of her skin over those muscles, to run his hands up, up…   
  
Jag bit his lower lip, hard. It was enough of a distraction for the moment to draw his attention elsewhere, but even then the pain could not overcome the hunger haunting him below. It was as if merely the touch, the feel of Jaina finally in his arms, albeit not as he would have hoped, ignited nerve endings, sending signals coursing through his body, waking it up, calling it to attention.   
  
A sharp kick or knee, he was not positive which, to his solar plexuses caused Jag to start. He heard Jaina's voice through the howl in his ears, although he was still blinded by the white haze before his eyes. "Hey, Jag. Did you hear me? I said you can let me go."   
  
Jag dropped his arms immediately. If he thought the pain was unbearable before, it was excruciating now. Life permitting, Jag would have held Jaina for the rest of his life, or at least that is what his body wanted. There was no doubt in his mind that there was an attraction, at least physically, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He had found his way to women over the last couple of years, and on a limited basis, purely to fulfill a tiny need that required attention, some desire to belong or share, but only in a fleeting, self-fulfilling way.   
  
The want he was confronting now was bottomless and seemingly unquenchable. Before, he could have walked away from a potential liaison without batting an eye and merely exercised mind over body. The satisfaction was not essential to his very being those other times. Here, now, his mind never had a chance to get in the fight. Jaina had conquered him completely without even knowing.   
  
Suddenly, his vision returned, and she was there, falling before his eyes, landing on the crate not even inches from him. As her feet hit the crate and the impact rocked both of their balance points, Jag reached out. He could not help himself. Amazingly, Jaina grasped his forearms where his hands had shot to her waist for support.   
  
Together, they stood there locked in a moment in time. It seemed to Jag that Jaina was as reluctant to pull away as he was. Her gaze had drifted upward at some point and his had drifted down. He felt himself drawn closer and closer, pulled like a magnet nearing another; the attraction only got stronger. Their eyes were locked in a silent conversation.   
  
_What do you want?   
  
I want you.   
  
How can that be?   
  
I don't know, but the feeling is undeniable. Can't you feel it too?   
  
I'm afraid.   
  
I'm afraid.   
  
This feels so right.   
  
So right.   
  
So green.   
  
So brown.   
  
So strong.   
  
So beautiful.   
  
Kiss me. Make all this go away._   
  
"How does it look?" Jaina dropped her hands instantly as Jag spoke. _Shavit__, you fair-haired ninny.__ Loser boy. Why can't you for one second be like Dav. He would have kissed her and kissed her hard. Damn the consequences. She probably would have slapped him good for it, too. Why can't I be like Dav?_   
  
He missed Jaina's brief description of the repairs until the last couple of words. "…oh, and I tightened the casing. I always have my trusty hydrospanner in my pocket for just such occasions."   
  
She tried to move her arm to pat her pocket. Doing so caused Jaina's arm to brush his hand still firmly implanted on her tiny waist. They looked down in unison; Jag snapped his hands away instantly.   
  
"Uh, sorry," was all he could manage.   
  
Strangely, Jaina peered back up with some confused expression. Her reply was less expressive than his. She simply nodded once, then gazed down at her feet. Without uttering a word, she stepped back off the crate and dropped silently to the ground. Jag followed, his eyes glued to Jaina as she neatly placed the welder back in its place among the assortment of tools, like she had some vivid recall of exactly how it had been before.   
  
Slowly, she straightened, casting her brown eyes in his direction. They were guarded now, the openness gone. The silent connection that allowed the flow of emotions moments before shuttered again. "I hope that works out for you." She thrust a thumb over her shoulder. "I guess I had better go."   
  
She was turning before Jag could even utter a goodbye, but he did not want her to leave. "Wasn't there a reason you came by?"   
  
Jaina stopped in mid-step, her back to him. When she made the painfully slow pivot to face him, Jag noted some faint indecision in her expression. Only moments later, the determined Jaina Solo expression returned - the one that meant she had a purpose and meant to see it through, despite all else. Her shoulders straightened, and her chin rose proudly.   
  
"Yes. Yes, I did. All this fun with your clawcraft almost made me forget." She took a step closer to Jag. "I wanted to ask your help in planning a mission. I think your tactical training and experience would be of great benefit. Your advice would be invaluable in my eyes, maybe even save countless lives by finding the cracks in my plan. I am not too proud to acknowledge my weaknesses, you know. It is important that this mission be a success."   
  
"You want my help?" Jag tried not to seem dumbstruck by the admission. He was not sure he succeeded other than he kept his jaw from hitting the floor.   
  
"Well, yes. You are by far the brightest tactical mind around. You have experience with the enemy. You understand the limitations of the pilots available." She was running down a checklist, like she had used these points in her own argument with herself. Finally, Jaina met his green eyes. She locked her stare to his. "Despite whatever impression I give off, I do value your opinion."   
  
"So the admiration is mutual."   
  
Jaina's mouth opened before she hesitated. She must have been mulling her next thought carefully. A slow smile, subtle but true, slid across her lips. "I suppose you could say that."   
  
Jag fought a tiny grin that threatened to take over his lips, fueled by the blooming bud of hope opening up like a blossom exposed to the new dawn. There was a ray of possibility shining down in that simple admission. Whether her words meant more or less than he wished was another matter for another day. The step was in the right direction. Today was a good day for fixing things.   
  



	10. Imprecision

Have you ever wondered what exactly Shawnkyr said to Jag after the famous _commander_ exchange? Well, I have the answers. This vignette starts with the events of pages 274-275 of Elaine Cunningham's Dark Journey, then branches into a scene that is implied but never expressly shown in the book. Again some of the dialogue is not my own but directly from the book. 

  
**IMPRECISION**

  
Jag dropped to the ground from his cockpit amid the clamor of excited pilots running past. They were all heading in one direction, toward the coral frigate _Trickster_. They had a good reason, too. The ragtag assortment of fighters he had led up into battle had earned a decisive victory over the Yuuzhan Vong solely because of a brilliant new tactic designed by Jaina Solo. Across the hangar, she was strutting down the ramp to the frigate analog, her face lit by a faint smile hinting at a certain satisfaction hidden beneath her usual ice-queen exterior.   
  
Running gloved fingers through his short hair, Jag smoothed out the ridges left by the crush of his helmet, then set off to join the celebration. He watched enviously as Kyp Durron showed none of the restraint with which Jag felt so harnessed. The Jedi Master swept the petite pilot into his arms and spun her around in a high-spirited circle. His pride was unabashed as he set the younger Jedi down. Just once, Jag wished he could display his emotions with such carefree abandon.   
  
Jag closed the distance as Jaina's feet hit the ground. "That was astonishing. If you ever feel in need of a title, you should consider 'commander.' I'd be happy to consider you in that light."   
  
"Gee, a girl can't hear that too often," Jaina said dryly.   
  
His initial reaction was confusion as Jag noted the deflection of the intended compliment. Before he could pursue the matter, Shawnkyr closed in on his location like a torpedo with a target lock.   
  
"No Chiss would fly under this woman's command," the Chiss said sternly. "I am surprised, Colonel Fel, to hear you use words such as _commander_ with such imprecision."   
  
Pale green eyes shot first to Jaina to discern a reaction to the insult. Finding nothing more than a casual shrug before Jaina turned to join the revelry, Jag found his attention drawn to the fiery gaze of his friend and confidante. Shawnkyr's face was unusually drawn and cold, even for the emotionless Chiss.   
  
"A moment of your time, sir."   
  
The words were formed in the correct manner of a subordinate speaking to her commander, but there was no implied request; rather it was a not-so-subtle demand. His initial reaction was to turn on his heel and deny his second the privilege of demanding anything. Experience dictated to Jag that Shawnkyr chose her moments carefully, and he would be wise to hear her out.   
  
Jag tipped his head. Together, the two Chiss pilots slipped off as the celebration headed for places other than the dank hangar. Taking care not to appear overly concerned, Jag studied the tall Chiss female out of the corner of his eye as she matched his stride. The fact that her blue face remained decidedly unreadable should not have surprised him.   
  
In a curt gesture, Jag motioned silently with an upturned palm at the corridor leading to his tiny office supplied by the Hapans. The pair's rhythmic march sounded like the steady beating of a battle drum. The implication struck a chord deep in Jag's gut.   
  
Shawnkyr entered the office first, taking a few steps in before turning abruptly to face her commander. Jag had barely heard the door swoosh close behind him, when she began to voice exactly what troubled her mind. "Permission to speak Chiss to Chiss, sir."   
  
Jag drew up tall, trying to project the confident air of a Chiss commander, while at the same time not appearing too rigid. "Speak your mind, Shawnkyr." The last touch, using her name, indicated his regard for her as an equal and a friend. Otherwise, her words could have been used against her later. He had given her permission to take the safety mechanism off.   
  
The pregnant pause spoke volumes to the weight Shawnkyr was giving to her words. Her red eyes found their focus, directly into the back of his retinas, and she began to speak in their native tongue. "I do not understand, in light of the current political undertones, how you could address Lieutenant Solo in such a manner. Your proclamation was akin to placing our squadron in her service when the political unrest comes to a head."   
  
"I fail to see how the political situation on Hapes has anything to do with Lieutenant Solo. Sure, there is some degree of posturing among the royal family, but beyond the fact that she is a friend of Princess Tenel Ka, I do not see how using a well-deserved compliment can imply anyone is choosing sides in a power play among a bunch of nobles."   
  
"Because Jaina Solo is obviously making a bid for the ruling position."   
  
Jag could not stifle his snort. "You have got to be joking!"   
  
Not so much as a blink crossed Shawnkyr's face. "When have you known me to jest?" Jag refused to offer a reply. "Perhaps your affinity to Jaina Solo has blinded you to what is plainly obvious to the casual observer. Do you deny that there is a lack of strong leadership here on Hapes at a critical juncture for the Cluster?"   
  
"I have seen the condition of Queen Teneniel Djo with my own eyes. Her leadership presence is all but non-existent." He started to see where Shawnkyr's torpedo was targeting, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt, strictly out of friendship if for no other reason.   
  
"And from what you know of our studies of human culture specifically, what is the natural progression of events to come?"   
  
His eyes drew to slits as Jag recalled the numerous lessons learned from their Nuruodo anthropological studies. "Another will seek power out of necessity, otherwise the downfall of Hapes is a certainty." He sighed, then threw out a desperate countermeasure for the torpedo speeding his way.  "I fail to see where this is going, Shawnkyr. Yes, I know someone will seek power and must seek power, but I fail to see how this relates to Jaina." He bit down on the inside of his cheek after realizing too late he had referred casually about the woman in question.   
  
"Can you not see that the Queen Mother has chosen Jaina Solo for the natural replacement to the throne, bypassing her own granddaughter?"   
  
"What?" Jag stormed past his second, trying to hide the breaking in his emotionless façade. "That idea is preposterous," he lied. He knew better; Tenel Ka had told him much the same thing.   
  
Shawnkyr addressed the back of Jag's black flightsuit. "Is she not living with the Queen Mother in the palace?"   
  
Jag refused to turn around for fear the Chiss pilot would see the growing dismay dawning across his face. "Yes," he muttered.   
  
"And she is known to have been given certain privileges by the Queen Mother?" Shawnkyr was trying to thrust the horrible truth back on him.   
  
"Yes." The vibrato in his voice gave away more than he cared to admit.   
  
"So you agree that your declaration might have implied we were aligning with Lieutenant Solo in her upcoming bid for the throne."   
  
Jag spun to face the accuser. "Jaina Solo is _not_ trying to wrestle power of an entire system out from under her friend's nose." He struggled to keep the wicked bile in his mouth from making his words sound like an evil hiss. "I have spent time with her over the last several days. She is a scared young woman trying to grieve her brothers in the only way she knows how – to crush the enemy. I know exactly how she feels; I have been there myself."   
  
"What better way to crush your enemy than have the fleet of an entire system at your beck and call?"   
  
"Enough!" Jag held his hand up to ward off Shawnkyr's words. "I will not tolerate this line of slander anymore. Tenel Ka knows Jaina Solo better than most; she would sense a potential problem. She would have warned me by now…"   
  
Shawnkyr's scarlet eyes closed into slits. "Why would Princess Tenel Ka have to warn you about anything concerning Lieutenant Solo? Are you involved beyond a professional relationship?"   
  
Jag stepped forward so his nose was within mere inches of Shawnkyr's face. She was a hair taller, so he had to look up slightly. "If I was, it would be none of your concern, Lieutenant Nuruodo. This conversation is closed. Jaina Solo is not attempting to become Queen. There is too much honor in her to conceive of something as despicable as seizing power to satisfy her own lust for revenge. And I did not in any way imply we were attempting to back her in a coup attempt." The Chiss did not flinch under his assault. "This matter is closed."   
  
Shawnkyr snapped to attention, acknowledging her commanding officer's final words. She waited in silence, unblinking. There was no hint of remorse or apology for the offense. Jag held her in place for many hammering heartbeats, the pounding of his pulse drowning all input to his ears. Finally, he tossed his head in a disgusted gesture.   
  
"Go."   
  
The familiar twitch along the corner of Shawnkyr's mouth told Jag she had more to say, but to her credit, the Chiss stepped back with one foot and swung in a perfectly executed about-face. As his friend's backside retreated to the door, Jag pondered the last unspoken words. Theirs had always been an open relationship as commander and second; never had Jag summarily shut Shawnkyr out or dismissed her off-hand.   
  
Crossing the threshold, the Chiss right-faced, then snapped her feet together. She glanced over her shoulder, through the door separating the two friends like the vast expanse of space. The fire in her eyes revealed a moment before she spoke told Jag one thing - that if this were the end of their friendship, then Shawnkyr would leave satisfied she had stated her mind, fully.   
  
"I wonder, if Jaina Solo is as honorable as you say that she would be able to refuse the crown once it was offered to her in such a time of crisis, even if the downfall of the Queen was not of her doing. The way I see it, her path may be decided either way."   
  
Green eyes burned with an anger never before seen, and the red eyes knew they had seen how far was too far to push. Then, Jag turned his back to his friend, a fate worse than any words she could have expected. Shawnkyr dipped her head in failure, then picked it up again before walking off silently into the quiet bowels of the spaceport.   
  
Flexing his fingers into balls of fury and back out again several times, Jag fought to release the terrible fury that caused his body to tremble. Loss of control was a new foe to the unflappable Fel, and he beat it back with a steely resolve, nostrils flaring in the struggle. These things spinning around in his brain, thoughts chasing each other in a tiring race, were impossible to grasp. Jag shut his eyes and squeezed them hard, but all he met was the vision of Jaina kneeling to accept a crown.   
  
"Oh, Shawnkyr, _buotan mo anu_," he cursed his second's brutal words.   
  
Pain, so much pain. And so many terrible possibilities and consequences. He knew Jaina was not capable of such treachery; he knew it in his heart. There was only one answer. Shawnkyr had forced him to acknowledge a terrifying possibility. Someone really was maneuvering Jaina into taking the throne, someone powerful and cunning, and she truly might have no other choice.  It was a possibility neither he nor Tenel Ka had foreseen. His mind went back to a memory, a moment that had been telling, if only he had seen the signs – Jaina spinning across the hall, laughter filling her eyes, a smile only for him until one woman had come between them.   
  
Ta'a Chume. The Queen Mother had to be behind this just as Tenel Ka had suspected. He sensed it with that same keen ability he had to perceive a sideshot milliseconds before he needed to avoid it.   
  
Jag charged to the door, ripping the zipper open on his flightsuit and slapped the controls. As the door slid shut, he was already freeing his shoulders and arms of the sweat-stained garment. With the open suit hanging from his hips, he sauntered over to the locker in the corner of the small office and yanked out a change of clothes. Normally, Jag would have hit the showers and settled in to write his report. In the state he was in, though, there was no way he could focus on the task at hand.   
  
After tossing the fresh cloths on the desk, he shimmied free of the flightsuit and whipped his tank off. Jag quickly stepped into the pair of casual black slacks while considering his options. As the collarless short-sleeved shirt settled snugly against his torso, Shawnkyr's last words echoed in his mind. _Her path may be decided either way._   
  
He pondered all possible angles Ta'a Chume would use to exploit Jaina. Years before the Queen Mother had tried to manipulate Jaina's mother into marrying Prince Isolder. If Ta'a Chume truly had her sights set on Jaina, thinking she might be more tractable, then that would mean the fight in the Solo tent really had been over a request for the Solo daughter to marry Isolder and not the mother. Either way there was little doubt now that someone in the palace wanted to usurp Teneniel Djo's power.   
  
There was only one way to find out what truly had happened that day in the refugee camp, and Jag wanted answers. If Jaina was going to be manipulated in some sordid game of Hapan intrigue and power plays, Jag was going to make sure she knew exactly what she was up against. He rushed to the door with a solid idea of where he needed to go and whom he needed to find, the first part being the easier of the two, the latter requiring a stroke of luck.   
  
Making his way through the streets, Jag mentally honed his plan as he neared the palace. Thankfully, the same guard was in place at the private residence gate from the night before, when he had escorted Jaina home from their tactics planning session. Jag played it cool as he intimated to the impressionable man that he was invited over by Jaina for a late night rendezvous. A passed cred note and an undeniable threat ensured the Hapan would never repeat to others of the Chiss colonel's passing.   
  
Passing through the palace, Jag remained as unobtrusive as possible, while maintaining his guard. Green eyes casually scanned each person he crossed along the gilded corridors of the palace. He recognized the hall heading to Jaina's suite to which the guard had graciously directed him. An overwhelming urge struck Jag to turn down the hall and just take a peek. His feet faltered for a moment in indecision.   
  
Just then, in his second of hesitation, two voices drifted around the corner, coming closer with every second. Jag ducked into the side hall, walking purposefully away before pivoting on his heel to walk back as if he were meant to be leaving Jaina's suites. The two voices continued their discussion, and the owners walked slowly past the side hall moments before Jag reached them. They never gave him a second glance, but one of the men, the taller one dressed in a Hapan uniform caught Jag's eye instantly. He was the man who had been fighting Han Solo in the refugee camp. _There is that stroke of luck._   
  
Turning into the main corridor, Jag tailed the Hapan pair, a task made easy by their animated conversation. They twisted and wound their way deeper into the bowels of the palace, unaware of the shadow stalking their movement. Jag found that the farther they went the darker and more insipid his surroundings became.   
  
The taller man, reaching over to slap his companion on the back, must have caught a glimpse of his stalker for he performed a double take, craning his neck to see what lay behind him. He stopped, swinging around to confront Jag, followed by his partner. The tall Hapan eyed Jag suspiciously.   
  
"Hey, what are doing down here?"   
  
Jag feigned ignorance, shrugging his shoulders casually as he met the man's hard stare. Face to face, there was little doubt this was the man who had fought with Han Solo. A glint of recognition sparkled in the Hapan's eyes about the same moment. He marched directly into Jag's path and thereby into his trap.   
  
"Don't I know…"   
  
The speed with which Jag struck was so swift that the tall man never even had a chance to defend himself as a fist flashed up to meet the meaty flesh of his nose. The tall Hapan fell back from the sheer force of the blow as Jag stepped past the first opponent felled. The other man was prepared, charging with the usual aggressive style employed by Hapan fighters.   
  
Dodging the charge with his shoulders first, Jag took a glancing blow to the chest, but the man's momentum sent him tumbling past. A well-placed elbow to the back of the undefended head rendered the unsuspecting man a limp heap on the floor with alarming proficiency. Without even breaking a sweat, Jag had taken out the two Hapans.   
  
He fought a satisfied smile as he turned to the moaning form of the taller Hapan, propped against the wall holding his nose. Bending over, Jag grasped the man by the shirt and hoisted him unceremoniously to his feet. The feral satisfaction he felt as the bigger man tried to shrivel into the wall empowered Jag to finish his task. This man before him held all the answers.   
  
Jag crossed his forearm over the man's throat, cutting off his airflow considerably. "You were the one sent to Han Solo's tent to make the offer of marriage."   
  
The man sputtered as blood oozed from his nose into his mouth. "I will tell you n…"   
  
The crush of the well-placed arm silenced the protest. "You will tell me what I want to know," Jag hissed.   
  
Lips baring teeth tainted red were the only answer Jag received. Undaunted, the Chiss colonel spun his subject, ramming him into the wall with excessive force before rendering him senseless with the pain of an expertly applied Neroban handhold. The man howled in agony.   
  
"So are you having a change of heart, friend, or would you like to see the other wonderful methods of subjugation my Chiss brothers have taught me?" There was no mercy from the captor.   
  
"Yea…" came the croak. Jag tightened his hold. The man moaned. "Yes. I was there."   
  
Inhaling sharply, Jag realized he was dangerously close to the truth. There was no turning back now. He steeled his resolve. _I am doing this for Jaina._ "Who was the offer for?"   
  
The man hesitated, and Jag reminded him swiftly of the pain. "Okay," the tall Hapan protested. "The offer was for the Solo girl. You don't really think the Prince was going to settle for the old broad when he could have a nice piece of…AHHHH!"   
  
"Mind your tongue!" Jag snapped as he cranked the offended wrist even farther away from its natural position. "So the Prince sent you?"   
  
"No."   
  
"No?" The answers were so near Jag could taste them. He twisted a little harder. The man lifted off his toes trying to alleviate the pain. "No. Ta'a Chume. It was Ta'a Chume."   
  
Jag's shoulders dropped. He had been right. The Queen Mother was behind it all. She was playing Jaina like fool. In his relief, Jag shoved the man down, leaving him a writhing mess on the floor next to his unconscious companion. Turning away, he began walking, lost in thought. He was barely aware of the muttered curses and threats thrown his way, but he harbored no fear. Neither man would rise up against him again today.   
  
Out of habit, Jag reached up to run the fingers of his right hand through his black hair. He stopped with his hand before his face, noticing the other man's blood on his palm. He drew his fingers into a fist and lowered his hand again. Anger swelled in his belly anew.   
  
Jaina was being played in an unsuspecting game of political intrigue, caught in the wily snares of a wizened Queen Mother. Ta'a Chume had sent her lieges to make an offer for Jaina's hand in marriage, knowing full well that the father would fight back. Obviously the aim had been two-fold – paybacks for Han Solo stealing Princess Leia out from Isolder's nose years ago and at the same time convenient elimination of an obstacle, putting a more tractable Queen in power.  Back then, his interference was all that had prevented Ta'a Chume from succeeding.  Maybe he was meant to be Jaina's savior after all.  
  
Ta'a Chume had been playing nice to Jaina, all the while plotting to yank her world apart, hoping to be her guide and counsel when everything came crashing down around Jaina. Shawnkyr had been right on some points, Tenel Ka on others. Jaina would never refuse the crown if it were offered to her, not with so many lives in the balance, but with the failed marriage offer, the question still remained as to how Ta'a Chume would go about pushing Jaina to such an end. A divorce for Prince Isolder would be too slow and not provide the instant drama required.   
  
In a flash, the horrible truth hit Jag. Ta'a Chume would have Teneniel Djo murdered.  And she would do it soon.  
  
With renewed purpose, Jag made up his mind about where he needed to go next. There was only one person who could help him and that he could trust. Otherwise, Jaina and Teneniel Djo would both meet horrible fates. Jag took off at a run, set on finding Tenel Ka as soon as possible. He had taken only a few steps when a squad of uniformed Hapan guards burst around the corner.   
  
"There he is," one shouted as he pointed in Jag's direction.   
  
Jag skidded to a stop, quickly scanning his options. He grabbed for his blaster when a searing pain radiated out from Jag's chest. His hand tried to reach for the source of the pain, but would not move. Then, Jag felt himself falling and falling, the ground rushing up to meet him.   
  
His last thought before the blankness consumed him was only of one thing. _I have failed you, Jaina._   
  



	11. Misinformation

This is a missing scene as implied by Jag's conversation with Kyp and Jaina when rescued. This is my vision of how Jag got that puss on his face when Jaina walked into that cell to rescue him - hoping he would be as happy to see her and she was to see him. 

[Author's Note:  Thanks to **Darth_Lex for filling in for my usual beta **Zara_Rose** on this post.]  
  
  
**MISINFORMATION** **

  
_Voices.__ So many voices. And so loud. Can't they keep it down? Every word is like a detonator blast in my head._   
  
"Put him in the cell over there."   
  
"What do you think she wants with him?"   
  
"That one's a power-hungry she-witch. Maybe she wants the pleasure of offing him herself."   
  
_Thud._ Pain flared through his body from impacting with the cold duracrete floor. Air rushed from frail lungs in a _whoosh_ of air.   
  
"You never know with those types…"   
  
Grey to black. And silence, but no peace. Definitely no peace.   
  
_"Do you want something to drink? Some caf maybe?"   
  
She looked up from rubbing her neck, probably sore from the hours they had spent hashing out her plan. Some insane urge willed his hand to reach up and take over where her fingers had just left off. She smiled wearily in genuine gratitude.   
  
"No, thank you. I probably should grab Lowie and head back to the Palace. I've left him tinkering on the _Trickster_ and imposed on you for far too long."   
  
"It was no problem. I am glad you found some of my suggestions worthy of implementing," he replied.   
  
Pushing away her chair, she rose and quietly scrutinized the office. Her eyes stopped at the weathered couch against the far wall. He frowned, realizing the blanket still was splayed across the back from when he had tossed it aside following an all too brief nap. Her brown eyes found their way back to meet his green gaze.   
  
"Is this where you sleep?"   
  
"Sometimes. It's not the palace, but it affords timely replies to the ever-increasing alarms. By the time I get across the city to my assigned quarters I often find myself turning around to head right back here."   
  
She lowered her eyes and kicked her boot tip on floor. "The palace isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know. Sometimes I would prefer just to sleep in the _Trickster_."   
  
"Well, at least you know it has a shower."   
  
He held his breath anxiously, unsure of how she would take the remark. To his relief, tiny lines formed around her down-turned eyes and a slight curl graced the corner of her mouth. When she looked back up, he pondered how a simple smile could change everything._   
  
Black to grey. And even a hint of color.   
  
"He's still out?"   
  
"Seems to be."   
  
"Get him up. I've got a thing or two to teach him."   
  
"She's coming soon to question him, so make it fast."   
  
Two hands hoisted him up, his body helpless to respond. He hung in between the strong grips, suspended in air like bait to trap a wampa. There was a fuzzy blur below, maybe dark booted feet on the light duracrete floor. Blinking slowly did little to resolve the problem, not that it really mattered - there was not much to see. His neck lacked the will to support his one-ton head and all the determination in the galaxy could not muster enough strength to make it do otherwise.   
  
"Hey." The words were accompanied by a slap to his cheek. "Wake up, you egomaniacal blueblood."   
  
Pinching claws yanked the chin off his chest. He could just make out the faint outline of a face, but not enough to make a connection. Although he was not sure his brain had the wherewithal to do so even if he could force his eyes to focus.   
  
"So where are your Chiss brothers now, Colonel? Not so tough any more, are you?"   
  
He recognized the voice, and a sinking feeling weighted his stomach. He had a very bad feeling about what was to come.   
  
The fingers jerked his head side to side. "Pretty enough face. The nose is definitely in better shape than mine, no thanks to you."   
  
"Hey, don't mess him up too bad. I don't want to have to go explaining to Her Majesty why the prisoner can't talk."   
  
"I won't hurt him too bad…" Jag's head plummeted, and he had enough foresight to tighten his stomach muscles before a fist made contact. "…just make him pay..."   
  
The rest faded with his dimming mind, disappearing deeper into the void with each blow.   
  
He was shaking.   
  
Someone was shaking him. "Wake up. I'm not through with you…"   
  
He would have liked to oblige but oblivion was so much sweeter.   
  
_Rap.__ Rap. Rap.   
  
Sitting at his desk, he lifted his head to the sound. Dark brown curls escaping out of a high-set tail framed a heart-shaped face that peeked through the open office door. When he met her brown-eyed gaze, she stepped completely into the threshold.   
  
"Hey, I came by to make sure you were ready for tomorrow."   
  
He could not help but smile at her petite frame revealed in stunning clarity in the form-fitting navy workout attire. The small halter top left most of her midriff exposed, and the equally tight shorts showed more leg than should have been legally allowed. He must have grinned a little too big, because she crossed her arms self-consciously.   
  
Recovering quickly, he ripped his stare away to watch his hands rifle through the datacards on his desk. "Yes, I will have my squadron briefed and waiting at the hangar a half hour before the designated departure time."   
  
He found the datacard he was looking for and snatched it into his hand while grabbing a datapad with the other. Rising, he deposited the datacard into the device, then rounded the desk. "I have a couple last minute modifications suggested by…" He hesitated to tell her who exactly had made the suggestions and was unsure of exactly why. "Um…my final review. You can take them or leave them."   
  
She uncrossed her arms and accepted the datapad. Their eyes locked into a stare as their fingers shared the same piece of the datapad. The moment was quickly lost as she swiped the device away and withdrew a step. Her eyes scanned the display, and he took the time to study her.   
  
She was glistening with sweat, and there was the pleasant scent of hard work on her, mixed with a touch of a familiar fragrance. His mother wore a similar perfume, but he could not put a finger on the exact one. Bumps raised on her skin where the chill of the office air touched it. Throughout his examination she seemed intent on her study, but the second he stepped closer to point out a key item in the pre-mission report, she moved away as if they were participating in a carefully choreographed dance.   
  
"You would probably rather not. I just rushed over from sparring with Lowie. It was getting late so I didn't have a chance to…"   
  
Undeterred, he took another step closer as he interrupted. "There is no shame in hard work."   
  
"There's shame when your sweaty attire offends even the most indiscriminating of noses." This time she did not back away, not that she could. There was nowhere left to go with the wall closing her in on one side and him on the other.   
  
He ignored her and pointed to the display. "I think this change is critical. I hope you will consider it."   
  
She raised her eyes to meet his stare. They were so close he could feel the heat coming off her in waves. He was so hot he wanted to plunge into the cool dark pools that were her eyes and then drown in them. She blinked, and the spell broke for a moment.   
  
"They're all good suggestions. I'll implement every one of them."   
  
He inhaled deeply. "Corellian roses."   
  
She sucked her head back in confusion. "What?"   
  
"Corellian roses. You smell like Corellian roses."   
  
A blush bloomed on her cheeks and the spell was recast. "Uh…yes. I suppose I do."_   
  
An atrocious smell that could wake the dead wafted into his nose and startled his senses. Black faded to grey and then brightened like a sunrise into a sea of colors.   
  
"Corellian roses?" one of the voices asked.   
  
"Maybe you should go easy on him, big guy. He's getting delusional."   
  
He blinked his eyes rapidly as the odor jolted his mind into reality like a dip into a pond covered over with ice. It was the startling scent of Barcarian Claw salts. His oppressors were bringing him back for more.   
  
"The Sithscum wasn't so easy on me when he tried to beat that information out of me a couple of hours ago." There was a pause, then approaching footsteps. "Come to think of it, the colonel here was pretty agitated when I mentioned that pretty young tusk-cat the Queen Mother has been grooming."   
  
Those words were enough to marshal a sudden urge of will exerted over matter. He lifted his head to leer at the bruised and battered face of the Hapan guard he had pummeled earlier. A sinister grin rested on the tall guard's face.   
  
"Look; he's come back for more," the Hapan taunted while stalking across the floor.   
  
The pain searing through his chest from earlier abuses caused stinging breaths even at the thought of replying, but he was sure the hateful gleam in his eyes would suffice. The Hapan shifted his gaze to the unseen companions on either side and executed a curt nod. The supporting hands disappeared and he fell to the floor, his knees hitting first, then his hands catching the brunt of his weight. Overhead, the Hapan prowled around him in slow, sure steps.   
  
"So it seems the colonel here thinks he is going to rescue the Jedi princess from the clutches of our power hungry Royal Highness, just like he saved her daddy that day. Little does Mister Chiss realize that his princess has been playing him like a fool, all sweet and innocent on the outside and conniving and manipulative on the inside."   
  
"I've heard tale that she keeps audience with Ta'a Chume on a regular basis," a scratchy voice to the left offered.   
  
He tried to shut out their innuendoes, squeezing his eyes and rocking back to rest his haunches on his feet. He knew better than to give their jibes merit.   
  
"Oh, it's true. And it seems the Solo girl has been heeding her advice. Did you see them both dressed in red at the state dinner the other night? She is so ambitious that she was already trying to look the part of the Queen." This time it was the tall man's turn.   
  
Despite his efforts, the words made it past his weak barriers, twisting like a vibroblade. He tried to breathe, to regain some purchase, but the pain deep inside was unbearable. Instinctively, he clutched his chest.   
  
Off to the right, the third captor decided to throw in his two creds worth of slander. "You can say that again. I heard it was the girl who weeded out Trisdin for the traitor he was. It was on her word alone that he was executed. For one so young, the Sithspawned vixen is making short work of eliminating any and all obstacles in her path. Wouldn't you agree?"   
  
_Lies.__ All lies._ One foot found its way to rest flat on solid ground.   
  
The tall Hapan, the one he had beaten earlier, bent over so his words had less distance to travel and perhaps deliver an even heftier blow. "And she is meeting with Ta'a Chume as we speak. Probably trying to decide what we should do with our little problem here. Maybe the Jedi witch will enjoy skewering the colonel herself. It has been said that the Jedi mission to Myrkr has made her quite mad with grief, that she has become an avenging demon with one purpose alone…"   
  
The rest was lost. He had felt the terrible rage building inside until it fueled his body with enough strength to leap forward and tackle the legs of his unseen torturer. With his hands, he punished the tall Hapan for every terrible word spoken, for every lie, for every hurt. He did not know how many blows were landed, but he was tireless in the assault. That was until the sudden and lancinating pain burst across the back of his head and spread like a wildfire, ending in a bright hot light behind his eyes.   
  
White reversed to black.   
  
_"You really didn't need to escort me back to the palace," she looked over with some strangely endearing blush to her cheeks. "I mean, I am a Jedi. I can take care of myself."   
  
"I have seen you in action, and I am sure you can. Still, I am sure that excuse would not fly with my mother, and I fear her wrath more than anything in this galaxy, so it was nice that you humored me." The blush grew, and with it her beauty, even with the failing tail of long hair and tired rings under her eyes. "Besides, it gave us more of a chance to talk about tomorrow."   
  
She averted her gaze and walked silently for a moment beside him. "The entrance is just around the bend." She gestured ahead with the flick of her slender finger. "I can make it the rest of the way safely, I'm sure."   
  
He ignored her and continued his steady gait. "You're half Corellian; you must understand the basic tenets of chivalry. It wouldn't be proper."   
  
"So why tonight of all nights did you decide to be chivalrous?" she asked with a coy tilt of her chin and a sideways glance from her large dark eyes.   
  
"Usually you have that Wookiee friend of yours stop by. I am sure he walks you back. That is just their way." Her mouth flapped once before slamming shut with no suitable response. His guess had been right. "Besides, what would your father say if I abandoned his daughter here?"   
  
"Good riddance," she replied with sincere disdain, then seemingly lost her will to keep him squirming after spotting the shattered look on his face. She giggled despite herself. "He'd tell you no Imperial space jockey is good enough for his baby girl." Now her blossoming laugh was contagious, and he had to stifle a grin. "Then he would sic Chewie on you, with Jace and Anakin right on his hee…"   
  
The silence was deafening. Knowing her pain all too well, he turned away his eyes, noting one hand swipe at a tear, and left her to grieve privately. Only their matching footsteps echoed across the cobbled thoroughfare - until hers faltered. He drew his feet together, then turned slowly to face her.   
  
For once she did not even try to hide the sorrow. It poured forth from every fiber of her being in little wracks of her body, silent tremors of bottomless sadness. His heart nearly burst at the sight as her arms crossed in a fierce embrace like they were trying to keep her from literally falling apart.   
  
"They're all gone," she whispered. "There's no one left."   
  
He stepped closer, then reached out tentatively with a finger to wipe away a tear caught on her cheek. The touch was fleeting, and she did not withdraw. In fact, she turned her head into his finger and shut her eyes. His fingers continued on until his whole palm cupped her cheek. There were not words he could have said to take away the pain, but the shimmer in his eyes must have told her that he understood her loss for her petite hand stretched out to rest over his heart.   
  
"It hurts right there," she offered between quiet hiccoughs.   
  
He nodded.   
  
"I just want to find a way to make it stop."   
  
The tears intensified to the concentration of an afternoon downpour as her fingers closed on his shirt, desperately clawing for some hope. When the first plaintive sob erupted from her quivering lips, Jag did the only thing he could and pulled the quaking frame into his arms to cry right along with her._   
  
In the darkness, tears wet his cheeks from the indescribable hurt drumming throughout his body. There was just no way to make it stop. He could not even bear the thought of taking another breath the ache was so overwhelming.   
  
"Did you fools kill him?" The voice was cold and calculating as only a female could be.   
  
"No. He's Corellian. They don't ever handle stun blasts well."   
  
Breath came despite his best efforts. Death seemed such a promising alternative. The sudden intake brought a violent response from his tortured ribs, and his body spasmed in protest.   
  
"Good. He is coming around. Bring him to me," the woman said.   
  
Hands gripped his arms and powered his flight across the floor. As black sharpened to muted tones, he watched the hazy imperfections of the duracrete whiz past with some ambiguous interest. Once they stopped, a set of sharp nails dug into chin and hoisted his head so he was looking forward. Inspecting him like an item at the market, Ta'a Chume offered no approval in her gaze.   
  
"It's a shame you managed to stick your nose where it does not belong, Colonel."   
  
All he could do was stare right back into her cold eyes. She was the one instrumental in Jaina's tribulations. He could see the wicked glint and malicious intent simmering like Fire crystals just below the surface of those beady eyes. As if the former Queen knew he could see straight into her black heart through those portals to her soul, she squinted to conceal their depths.   
  
"Leave us." She nodded to the lackeys at either side of him.   
  
"But Your Highness…"   
  
"Leave us! Now!"   
  
He was dumped unceremoniously onto a nearby cot before the two pairs of shuffling feet faded into silence. As Ta'a Chume made her way over to perch on a seat of her own, he struggled to improve his posture and meet this nemesis with all his faculties in place. The pain made it nearly impossible, and he managed no better than a slouch.   
  
She studied him coldly for a few heartbeats. "It will be a shame to lose a fine warrior such as you, Colonel. And so senselessly I might add."   
  
"You won't get away with this."   
  
Ta'a Chume laughed. "Spoken with true bravado to the last, but may I remind you it not I who is trapped inside the dungeons of the palace."   
  
"My second will realize I am missing; there will be questions to be answered…"   
  
"And even more so if I let you walk out of here. You know that as well. If your Chiss friend sticks her nose where it doesn't belong then she will meet the same fate as you." Her eyes dashed from side to side in their bloodthirsty madness.   
  
He knew then Ta'a Chume would stop at nothing to regain the throne. He was as expendable as Teneniel Djo, maybe more so. "Your plan won't work. She won't take the throne."   
  
"Who? Jaina Solo?" He would have reached up and crushed the winning smile from her face if he could have. "That is where you are so wrong." Ta'a Chume donned a condescending façade to go with her sickly tone. "All you see is a pretty face, but I know the heart underneath. Jaina Solo is not the woman you imagine her to be."   
  
"She will never follow you on your power mongering quest," he spat.   
  
"Ah, but she already has. She already has. Just tonight we shared our dreams and aspirations. In fact, she laughed when we spoke of her father's attack. There are no lines Jaina Solo will not cross; she has no morals to speak of anymore. She has tasted true power and will demand more and more in her vendetta to make her enemy pay. Gallinore proved that."   
  
Ta'a Chume paused for effect, studying her prey. "Did you know she erased the minds of her Wookiee companion and Tenel Ka? My own granddaughter does not remember the true devious nature of their excursion. How exactly do you think Jaina managed to devise those Yuuzhan Vong implants, hmm? Well I do. I helped her arrange the whole trip, provided the shuttle and access. She used Gallinore's secret laboratories where no method is too harsh or extreme, no act too inhumane. Then Jaina wiped all knowledge from the minds of her friends with the help of her Jedi lover."   
  
He felt a sickening urge rise from the depths of his bowels as though the former Queen herself had delivered a gut shot. _Could it be true?_ he wondered. _Could Jaina have done these things? Could she blatantly strip her friends' minds? Was she finding comfort in Kyp Durron's arms?_   
  
The Queen must have sensed her victory, because she leaned in for the killing blow. "Does that thought bother you, Colonel? Did you have designs of courting Jaina Solo on your own?" When he tried to look away, a set of steely fingertips clawed his jaw, forcing him to meet her calculating gaze. "You poor Force-blind fool, you would never have been more than a passing distraction for the Jedi girl. Master Durron, I assure you, will have his way with that fine specimen if he already hasn't. Why else do you think he traipses after her silly whims than for a chance at claiming her prize?"   
  
Summoning all his strength, he ripped his face away, her nails leaving scratches in their wake.   
  
Her next breath spewed forth in a cackle. "She will use Hapes just as I will use her. Jaina will marry my pitiful son; perhaps bear him a daughter more worthy than his current Jedi brat before I find it necessary to dispose of her. With any luck Tenel Ka will be the one to strike the Jedi princess down, or vice versa. Either way, it is a perfect plan."   
  
He tasted his own defeat, but refused to surrender. "The Chiss have a saying about the admiral who believes his plan is unflawed – the obvious flaw then is the admiral's hubris. You will fail." He steeled his green eyes in her direction.   
  
Ta'a Chume curled the corner of her mouth in a predatory grin. "Ah yes. Thrawn's lesson learned. How profound."   
  
The former Queen rose, aligning her regal frame to cast a shadow upon his battered body. "Believe what you like, Colonel. In the end, you will be dead." She spun in a swirl of weighty shimmersilk to sachet out the small room's door. Without a backward glance, she addressed the captors. "Kill the colonel in the morning. Give him time to relish in the thought of his own fruitless and inglorious death."   
  
The door slammed shut, and Jag was immersed in darkness.   
  
  



	12. Breaking Free

Unfortunately, this vignette is entirely darker than most of the others, but we are talking Elaine Cunningham's Dark Journey. Again actual dialogue (except for a few fill in the blank moments where the scene was a bit sketchy) belongs to the Mistress of Jaina's Dark Journey. The _flashback_ is entirely of my own creation.   
  
**BREAKING FREE**

Darkness had a way of seeping into one's soul and taking root, expanding fears and feeding the anxiety that ate a hole deep in the pit of one's very being. Darkness held no offer of comfort, no promise of a better day to come; it was nothing. And Jag found himself in the very core of this vacuum with no light or hope within reach. If someone could have tried to find the worst place to exist, this must have been it.   
  
Jag knew not how long he had rested face up on the rock-hard cot that served as his final resting place. He probably could have used the bounding pain in his aching bones and joints, heralded with every passing heartbeat, as some sort of measure, but what was the point of counting down to your own death.   
  
At the simple thought, Jag rolled onto his side and hacked desperately for the effort. He clutched his punished ribs once, wondering if the touch might offer some relief. Wondering, not hoping – there was a distinct difference.   
  
And that was precisely what had gotten Jag into this mess – hoping and not thinking – hoping Jaina Solo was the person he wanted her to be. He had, for the first time in his existence, followed the footsteps his heart had desired, turned his back on the ingrained logic and stoicism he had honed in his life on Csilla, only to find that his heart was an utter fool.   
  
_But how could that be true_, he wondered. Had she not cried in his arms only days before? Wept for brothers lost? Shared with him the most intimate and raw emotions of two people left to suffer bravely when loved ones had passed on? Had all that been a lie?   
  
_"I just want to find a way to make it stop."_   
  
Those were the words she had uttered outside the palace gates. There must have been more to them than he was willing to admit. Perhaps, Jaina had cried not for her loss, but for the choices she had been forced to make. Desperation could drive people to do unimaginable things. Jag was so captivated by the seemingly innocent need of the moment, the great power he had felt holding her in his arms, being able to offer solace and release, that maybe he had forgotten to listen to the wisdom of others.   
  
Despite the darkness, or maybe because of it, Jag squeezed his eyes shut and recalled in vivid detail the feeling of holding Jaina within the circle of his protective arms. Her fingers had dug into his shirt until they buried down to the skin. He had not realized until now exactly how much that had hurt at the time. Her body had quivered, unable to sustain itself, and Jag had practically supported her entire weight. She had not hesitated to take anything he offered, his embrace, his comforting words, his warmth and strength. She had greedily taken it all.   
  
_The sobs subsided no quicker than a lunar tide making its way back to sea, but finally there was nothing left save an occasional sniffle. His face was buried in her hair, his nostrils distracted by the delicate aroma of those dark tresses. His lips were so close to the skin of her forehead, it would have taken merely a simple thought to evoke the tenderest of kisses. His body practically quaked from the effort not to.   
  
At some point, the blending of their bodies started to unravel, and he felt Jaina stiffen in his arms.   
  
"I better get going," she stated abruptly while breaking the connection with his body.   
  
The reality of her departure slammed him in the gut like falling into a Csilla ice pond. Until that moment, he never realized his body might need another simply to exist. He recognized that fact for a painful truth. It took every measure of restraint to take even one step back, to offer Jaina her freedom. "Of course. We have a long day tomorrow." He swallowed. "You need your rest."   
  
She about-faced quicker than the blink of an eye and half ran, half walked across the cobbled street to the guarded entrance, only a snowball's throw from where they had shared each other's pain. The guard opened the gate swiftly, and she disappeared from view. After sealing Jaina safely inside the palace walls, the Hapan turned to regard him for a moment. The guard must have witnessed the exchange for a puzzled expression marked his face.   
  
He nodded out of courtesy, then slipped off into the shadows, taking hurried steps along the pedestrian path that lined the thoroughfare. His body was still aching from the effort of holding Jaina in his arms and opening old wounds. If that had not been difficult enough, he had found the proximity, the closeness, to be an intoxicating drug. He was already addicted.   
  
Not truly aware of his path or surroundings, the flash of red and green dropping from the sky startled him practically out of his skin. Years of practice kept that fact plainly hidden from his passionless face. He blinked, stepped back and regarded the object of his consternation, taking appraisal of the situation in less than a second.   
  
Standing before him in skins and braided hair, Tenel Ka looked more like a dangerous huntress from a far-flung world than the Hapan princess she truly was. The glint in her eyes was one of a stalker assured of her imminent victory. Although he had given her no reason to suspect she had startled him, Tenel Ka clearly knew.   
  
"What brings you so close to the palace, Colonel Fel?" she asked mockingly.   
  
He reasoned she already knew. Sparing a brief glance overhead, he eyed the tree branches Tenel Ka had undoubtedly hidden among and spied on his whole exchange with Jaina. "I was escorting Jaina home after spending some time reviewing tomorrow's battle plans."   
  
Tenel Ka's green eyes flared in admiration for his blunt honesty. He gathered from the sparkle that she respected such a simple courtesy above most others. "Is my friend in need of protection?"   
  
"She is in need of a friend above all else."   
  
The Jedi grinned. "This is a fact." She paused as if she was contemplating very carefully her next words. "So how is our mutual friend?"   
  
"I think…I think she grieves more than anyone should ever have to," he offered.   
  
"At least she has found some comfort," Tenel Ka retorted. The princess' change in tone toward Jaina struck him as odd and unsettling.   
  
He felt obliged to continue with his observations. "Yet she seems to have found some balance in her work with the_ Trickster. _In finding a way to defeat the enemy, Jaina has found some balm for her soul."   
  
"Tell me, Jag, you do not worry that Jaina is consumed by her work?" she probed. Perhaps she was merely concerned he was on the right path.   
  
"There is nothing wrong with total dedication to a cause or a job. In fact, I find it admirable, much more so than wallowing in self-pity." He stopped, confused by the strange mask that descended on the princess' face. "I would think a Jedi would expect no less from their own kind."   
  
Tenel Ka waved her hand once in a dismissive gesture. Such acts were never taken lightly by the Jedi warrior, who was more prone to subtlety and understatement, so he gave it considerable weight. "Yes, that is true, but since our trip to Gallinore, I have had flashes, glimpses really…" Her voice trailed off, like she was trying to put a finger on something elusive. Finally, Tenel Ka shook her head once in disgust. "Something happened then, only now am I seeing the signs."   
  
"Signs? What signs, Tenel Ka?"   
  
Tenel Ka turned away from Jag and studied the intricate pattern of the cobblestones. "I may have come seeking your aid in reaching Jaina too late. She might have already crossed the line before our ever speaking. I believe, after much meditation and reflection, that something happened on Gallinore for which Jaina signed her soul away in blood to darkness itself…"   
  
"No," he denied her claim vehemently. "I have been with her every day since our talk. I have seen no signs of a madness that consumes her…"   
  
"Nor would you," she argued. "Jaina has taken Kyp Durron as her Master. She denied her own family to take up with a Jedi who only a couple of years ago she blasted as the scourge of our galaxy. These are not steps to be taken lightly. I believe she chose Master Durron for a reason, for his specific set of skills and his ability to do whatever is necessary. If she has crossed the line, you will only see the Jaina Solo she wants you to see – whatever it takes to achieve her objective."   
  
"Surely, the Jedi would not keep Master Durron within their fold if he were as bad as you describe," he countered.   
  
"This war, Jag, has forced the Jedi to abide by many things that they would not under normal circumstances. Kyp Durron serves a purpose; I believe for that reason alone Master Skywalker has not run him out. But the truth be told, Kyp serves only himself. The Jedi and the galaxy would be far better without the services of his kind, even if that includes Jaina."   
  
"I must disagree with you respectfully, your Highness."   
  
Tenel Ka smiled despite the gravity of their conversation, obviously noting the change in his formality even before he did. "So it has come to that, Colonel Fel. Well, you are a smart man. Trust your instincts; they will serve you well."   
  
In the blink of an eye, the huntress of Dathomir, dressed in her skins and traditional hair decoration, leapt into the refuge of the trees, leaving him to his thoughts._   
  
The rustling of feet and hushed voices brought Jag back to the bleak reality of his surroundings. If he had possessed the luxury of time, he might have pondered how it was Ta'a Chume had known exactly what Tenel Ka suspected, or the ramifications of those same suspicions. But circumstances would not allow him such freedoms; not that it really mattered in the scheme of things.   
  
So despite the pain wracking every square inch of his body, he rolled up to a sitting position to meet the certain pallbearers of doom who would summon him out of this cell of darkness. If this was to be the end, Jag decided it would be better to go down fighting to the last. So, he gathered what fortitude he could from the depths of his battered body and felt the tension of anticipation quicken his pulse.   
  
Instead of waiting for his foes to make an appearance, Jag slipped to the door. He kept his eyes shielded, giving them time to adjust to the light they had done without for many hours. Jag eased his head close enough to peek out into the hall through the small slatted opening. Avoiding direct light, he blinked several times, trying to size up the parts of one man just beyond the opening. Then, he heard the voice.   
  
"Jag, are you all right?"   
  
Jag brought his face into the harsh light beaming through the opening faster than he should have. The light was almost blinding, blazing past the tiny face framed in its portal in a dazzling display. She looked like an angel from the moons of Iego, or least as best he had imagined based on bedtime stories his father had told. She smiled, and the room became even brighter. Jag blinked while using his upheld hand to shield his suffering eyes. When he turned his head to the side, Jag noticed the other one, the man. He was to be rescued by Jaina, what a blessing that might have been, if Kyp Durron had not been at her side.   
  
Then, a thought occurred to him. What if this was not the rescue? What if this was his doom? What hope did he have against two Jedi – one a Master?   
  
Jag resigned himself to his death; he could not fight Jaina if he wanted. He locked down his emotions and fears, hiding them behind a shuttered, disinterested mask. He would give her no satisfaction from experiencing his pain.   
  
Backing away, her smile faded, and Jaina glanced down quickly. Jag was suddenly surprised when she reached into her pocket and retrieved the small multi-tool she seemed to carry everywhere. With a few deft flicks she picked the complicated locks, and Jag came to the conclusion she and Master Durron were definitely a form of rescue. The look of concern marking Kyp's face when his eyes swept to Jaina told Jag all he needed to know. There was definitely a bond forming between the pair, to the exclusion of all others. Tenel Ka had offered her words of warning; not until it hit Jag like a stiffer punch than any of the earlier ones dealt his way that day did Jag accept those words at face value.   
  
The sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. Kyp and Jaina glanced at each other, then looked to the ceiling. A tangle of pipes crossed it, some fifteen feet overhead. They both leapt, catching hold of the pipes and waiting.   
  
Jag had the presence of mind to push the door shut. One of the locks clicked, and he hobbled back to the cot and unloaded his aching legs.   
  
The pair of guards took several moments to figure out the locks. They actually had to unwittingly relock the door by backing the key in order to open the tumblers completely. When they entered, grumbling about the ancient locks in the palace, the two Jedi dropped silently from their perch. Hoping to distract the guards, Jag jumped from the cot, instantly regretting the decision as his body revolted from the abuse.   
  
The move would have been unnecessary because the pair of Jedi felled their opponents with such swift precision Jag barely had time to blink before the Hapans were sprawled on the floor. Sadly, Jag expected the men to be dead; to his relief, they were not.   
  
Jaina marched to him directly, her eyes taking in the abuse marked across his face. "You're hurt."   
  
Jag withdrew as her fingers rose toward his battered cheek. "I'll live."   
  
Like it lacked the will to support the weight, Jaina's arm plummeted upon his assertion. She addressed Kyp, "Can you do something? Even temporary?"   
  
"It will have to be quick," Kyp stated after examining the guards, then stalked the distance to the cot. He raised a hand to Jag's shoulder. "This won't hurt."   
  
Jag started to grab the Jedi's wrist when the first warm wave flushed over his body. "I don't need your Jedi magic…"   
  
With alarming speed that reminded Jag of exactly who he was dealing with, Kyp's free hand grasped Jag's wrist in turn. "Can it, Colonel. Save your Chiss pride for later."   
  
By the time Kyp finished talking, Jag's body had experienced an amazing rejuvenation, aches dulled to better than bearable, pounding pulses eased down to their subtle norm. The Jedi Master was spinning on his heel and marching out the cell's door before Jag came back to his senses. Like a simpleton, he marched after the dark-haired Jedi still figuring out how to tell him to take it all back.   
  
As Kyp stalked out of the cell and into the brighter lights of the corridor, Jaina stepped over a downed guard, in a move to impose herself between Jag and the Jedi Master. She booted the prone man in between the shoulder blades for good measure when the Hapan stirred. Side by side, Jaina and Jag followed Kyp into the hall.   
  
"How did you get yourself down here?" she demanded.   
  
Jag blinked twice, perhaps from the audacity of the lights, but probably from the confusion still whirring in his mind. Did she know the truth? Or was she as ignorant of his predicament as she let on? Either way, he supposed reality would smack him in the face soon enough.   
  
"After the battle, Shawnkyr took me aside and warned me that in implying that I would honor you as commander, I was putting my pilots in the service of Hapes' future queen. That I was taking sides in a coming coup." Well there it was. Jag laid it all out on the line and held his breath.   
  
Jaina looked dismayed. "Your Chiss friend must have overheard some of Ta'a Chume's people talking about it."   
  
The question still remained. Was the dismay from being found out, or genuine hurt at an unfounded accusation? Surprisingly, Jag had no qualms about twisting the knife to get the answer that he needed. "That is right. Congratulations, Lieutenant. Or would 'Your Majesty' be more appropriate?"   
  
Kyp, who had been unassumingly listening while leading the way out of the palace depths, fell back between Jag and the one he interrogated. The Jedi rested a hand on the small of Jaina's back while glowering at Jag. "These days she prefers 'Trickster,'" Kyp offered nonchalantly, but the implied threat was not missed. "What's a queen, next to a Yuuzhan Vong goddess?"   
  
Jaina shot a quick glare in Kyp's direction. "Don't help me. This queen business is ridiculous. It wasn't my idea."   
  
_It wasn't my idea._ What did that mean? That she knew about Ta'a Chume's plan? Or something else? He aimed to find out.   
  
"The queen's retainers were of the impression that you were another Ta'a Chume, an ambitious woman who would gladly seize this opportunity. They also spoke of eliminating obstacles, a job they were hired to do."   
  
When he finished, Jag was not sure why he had truly chosen to press the matter, except for his own benefit or maybe to show the Jedi Master he could not be intimidated. Jaina had given him the answer he wanted after all. She claimed the pursuit of the crown was beneath her. In fact, the drawn appearance of her face indicated that the notion others would believe her capable of such power-mongering truly and deeply troubled her.   
  
Surprisingly, Jaina stopped and seized his arm. "Does this have anything to do with my father?"   
  
The fact that she had made the connection between the mention of the former queen's retainers and the reason he had truly sought out and found the man who had attacked Han Solo gave Jag cause to shudder. It was as if she had plucked the thoughts right out of his mind. His capture had been only because Jag had blindly sought to protect Jaina, even when she did not need or want his help. For that reason, Jag aimed his reply more to Kyp – the man who had earned the coveted role of her guardian – than to the fierce woman clutching his arm.   
  
"That was my assumption, too. I sought out Han's assailants, ambassadors who went to negotiate a marriage alliance between Prince Isolder and Jaina. I feel certain that Han was not attacked so much as subdued."   
  
"I know all this," Jaina interrupted, "but I don't understand why you were detained."   
  
His lips firmed into a grim line after realizing she was still touching him, her slender fingers digging into his bruised forearm. He wanted Jaina to stop touching him, the reminder of his loss of trust and newfound love was too fresh. And he certainly was not going to admit he had been detained when he had beaten the truth out of a man in an unauthorized quest to ensure her safety. In an epiphany, Jag realized she had warped him into the same dark creature he feared she artfully concealed behind a tender exterior.   
  
"I was stopped on my way to find and warn Tenel Ka," he said to both Jedi. Then, he turned and bore his gaze into Jaina's brown orbs. If she was unaware of the political ramifications of the beliefs circulating among Ta'a Chume's minions, Jag was going to make her painfully aware. "You're of legal age and don't require your parents' permission to marry Isolder, no one can stop you. Logically speaking what would be this obstacle be but Queen Mother Teneniel Djo?"   
  
"Teneniel Djo," Jaina repeated, staring wide-eyed at him. By her shocked expression and her inability to refute his conclusion, Jag assumed she had gotten the message. Her hand fell away, and his traitorous body missed it instantly.   
  
Without uttering another word, Jaina spun on her heel and fled down the palace halls. Kyp and Jag shared a look and a shrug before sprinting off in the same direction. Having lived in the palace for some time now, she was comfortable with the turns and twists. The two men struggled to keep pace, but their longer legs allowed them to catch Jaina just as they reached the royal apartments. Jag felt the strain of his battered body, but refused to back down, especially since the Jedi next to him showed no signs of slowing up. Kyp may have beaten him in the battle for Jaina's affections – a fight he was now happy to surrender – but a Chiss had his pride.   
  
Blasting through the doors to the apartments, guards moved to stop them. Jaina threw out her arms, and bolts of blue lightning streaked from her fingertips. Both Hapans were struck, and the stench of scorched flesh met Jag's nose before their bodies hit the walls with heavy _thuds_. Jag was not sure if the overflow of electrical current atomizing ions in the air caused his hair to stand on end, or simply the sight of unadulterated fury reflecting in Jaina's eyes. Either way, her simple action instantly and decisively allowed Jag to finally break free from whatever spell Jaina Solo had cast over him. In that moment, he saw her simply as who she was – pain and anger wrapped in a beautiful package. Ugliness always found a way to show its true face, eventually.   
  
Kyp snarled a reproach under his breath, "Jaina."   
  
Never breaking stride, she glanced over her shoulder at the Jedi Master. Her eyes were pure black, not the caf-laced-with-brandy color Jag had thought he could drown in only a day before. "I'm sorry, Master," she answered unapologetically.   
  
With a swipe of her hand, she blew apart the doors to Teneniel Djo's suite, the very place Tenel Ka had taken Jag that fateful day and had encouraged him to follow the treacherous path of his heart. Jag paused outside the door, feeling that perhaps he was at another crossroads in his life. Jaina barreled into the room, taking with her the dark energy that seemed to soak the air she displaced. Kyp drew up next to Jag and placed a hand on his shoulder. Jag was unsure of the Jedi Master's intentions and looked to him warily.   
  
Perhaps Kyp sensed the trepidation squeezing Jag's heart, or perhaps he, too, feared the truth lying beyond those doors. Either way, there was nothing but sincerity in the Jedi's eyes when he spoke. "Your opinion matters to her, more than you could ever know. What you see now, this isn't Jaina."   
  
"And you're telling me this, why?"   
  
"Because she needs you to know that. And you need to know that," Kyp responded honestly.   
  
Jag flapped his mouth open in disbelief, then shut it just as quickly. Truths were flashing before his eyes like quicksilver, and now he was not sure of which one to grab hold. Of course, he knew exactly the one his rebellious heart demanded, whether or not it made any sense. In an unusual display of agitation, he snorted and stalked into the room.   
  
He was only two steps inside when he felt the cloak of death wrap around him in an unsettling blanket. He had tested the heavy mantle inside that dark cell only a short time before and he was familiar with the scent and feel – more familiar than he ever cared to be. In fact, Jag hoped death came to him swiftly at the appointed hour, not as a long drawn out suffocation. Such a fate evoked thoughts that the Corellian hells might be a worthier choice.   
  
Turning his head, Jag peered into the same darkened alcove where Tenel Ka had introduced him to her mother. Even then, there had only been a shell housing a flame low on fuel. The cold permeating the suite hinted to the flame's extinguishing; one glance at Tenel Ka kneeling before her mother with a desperate grip on a lifeless hand confirmed that they had been too late.   
  
"Poison," Tenel Ka murmured from the shadows. "They did not even give her the dignity of a final battle."   
  
While Jag and Kyp remained at a respectful distance, Jaina crossed to her long-time friend and placed a hand on the regal shoulder. "We'll find whoever did this."   
  
The Jedi princess lifted burning eyes to Jaina's face. "I will not have my mother's life dishonored by your vengeance."   
  
Jaina's hand retracted, her fingers forming a clenched fist, and she stumbled back a step. "Is that what you think this is about?" Her voice lacked passion; it was tremulous and tentative. "Do you think I'm dishonoring Anakin? Jacen?"   
  
Jag supposed by the anxious stance of everyone concerned, that an answer was warranted and fervently awaited. He felt his body rising up on its toes in anticipation. In a cruel twist of fate, an alarm sounded, rising in pitch and volume as it sang out the invasion alert. Tenel Ka gently placed her mother's limp hand back into the lap it had rested in death and stood. She ignored Jaina, perhaps resolving the question with her refusal to answer it, and held out one hand, fingers spread to display a large emerald ring. Then she abruptly clenched her fist, and a hologram leapt into the air.   
  
A nebulous swirl of darkness and mists filled the air. The mists parted to reveal five large starships, and many smaller vessels spilling from them.   
  
"Hapes' fleet, and my mother's legacy," Tenel Ka announced curtly. "Colonel Jag Fel, I place these ships under your command."   
  
Jag, in a rare occurrence, was utterly thunderstruck. He could not speak. He could not think. He could not even breathe. In a surreal moment, the strangest occurrence broke him free from his petrification. Jaina looked from Tenel Ka, after she simply tipped her head, to him. Her eyes, once again brown as a warm cup of caf, drilled unblinkingly into his.   
  
"You couldn't have made a wiser choice, my friend," she said with a sincerity he could or would not question. The faith in her eyes was undeniable. There was not time to question it; he could only believe it, to trust his instincts.   
  
With his confidence restored, Jag snapped to attention and bestowed a proper bow to the daughter of Hapes' dead queen. "It will be my honor, your Highness." 


	13. Reckoning

This scene occurs within the events of pages 289-292 in Elaine Cunningham's Dark Journey. You will find that I have skewed the scene from Jag's POV and inserted dialogue that would have been missed in the book as the events unfolded around Jaina and Tenel Ka. I hope you find it worthy of the Jag I have fleshed out and that the return to the **Jagged-in-Love** is believable within the flow of events around our hapless pair.   
  
Again as always, some of the dialogue and text is straight from the book and not my own. Nor do I take credit for it. I just weaved a little of my own magic dust into the mix and exposed the true misunderstood Jagged Fel in the process.   
  
So without further ado (but a simple thanks to my beta **Zara**)   
  
**RECKONING**   
  
"There's a matter of some unsettled business."   
  
Jaina spoke the words, and for a moment time stood still in the royal apartment. The two women exchanged some sort of silent conversation to which Jag was not privy before Tenel Ka spun on her heel and disappeared back into the alcove. Jag forced himself to look away, not wanting to intrude on a final farewell as the Hapan princess kissed her dead mother on the forehead. Instead, he eyed Jaina as she rubbed her lightsaber hilt while rocking from foot to foot. The action was unsettling in that its motivation was unknown and thereby caused a knot to tighten deep within him, two conflicting emotions fighting for supremacy.   
  
Tenel Ka wasted little time with her goodbye, and soon enough she was striding toward the door with a purpose. She spared Jag a quick glance. "Colonel, you will want to witness this," she said in passing.   
  
Jaina fell into step beside her longtime friend, and after pushing back his discomfiture Jag found himself side by side with Kyp, the two men looking for all intents and purposes like some honorary guard for a new queen.   
  
What troubled Jag was that he was unsure exactly which of the two she was.   
  
"It's quite a credit to the Chiss people for Tenel Ka to ask you to lead her mother's forces into battle," Kyp offered as he matched Jag stride for stride.   
  
"I suppose it is," Jag noted flatly.   
  
Passing through the endless maze of corridors, where revolving lights still warned of the impending attack in place of the initial blaring klaxons, Jag should have been concerned with strategy and defining his focus. But only one thought filled his mind. Now that the crown was up for grabs - what would Jaina do?   
  
"It has never been about power, you know," Kyp remarked as if he had picked up on Jag's thought.   
  
Jag shot the Jedi Master an accusatory stare. "What?"   
  
Kyp had slowed his step so they lagged behind the women. "I just thought you should know that it's never been her intent to grab power. She just wants to stick it to the Vong for all her own suffering. I fear though that Ta'a Chume has used Jaina's fragile state of mind to serve her own selfish ends."   
  
"And you're telling me this why?"   
  
"Like I said before, because your opinion matters to her…"   
  
Jag snorted. "You could have fooled me. It seems my opinion matters least of all these days."   
  
Kyp grabbed Jag's arm, and both men drew to a stop, toe to toe, sizing each other up. "This Jaina – the one you saw throw bolts of Force lightning – is only a façade she hides behind. The girl I knew once, the one I hurt more than I ever care to admit, still resides under that hardened shell. And I am going to try to bring her back from this darkness, but you have to understand first how your actions in particular affect Jaina. She's not the monster you envisioned when we came to rescue you. She's really just a girl who is vulnerable to the scrutiny of others and yours most of all. Her pain is constant but it increased tenfold when you chose to regard her as nothing more than a scruffy Rebel…"   
  
"I did no such thing," Jag protested vehemently.   
  
"Yes, you did," Kyp returned. His words were quiet and forceful in the same breath. He inhaled before turning on his heel to resume his chase of the Jedi princesses. Without sparing Jag a sideways glance, he questioned him. "How do you suppose we found you today?"   
  
Shrugging, Jag found no suitable response. With the large palace hall closing with each step, he looked to Kyp, supposing an answer was forthcoming.   
  
Kyp obliged him, his wary eyes never leaving the two women as they disappeared into the beckoning maw filled to the brim with Hapans thirsty to draw blood. "She found a connection to you she didn't know existed. Jaina had a vision of sorts that led us straight to you."   
  
Before either of them could dive into the churning masses where Ta'a Chume could be heard holding court, Jag gripped Kyp's tunic and yanked him to a stop. "What do you mean by _she found a connection_?"   
  
Glancing first to the hand on his sleeve with a predatory gleam, Kyp refused to answer until Jag unhanded him. "Exactly that. On some fundamental level, Jaina relates to you. It's not something you turn on like a switch. These things just sort of happen…"   
  
"And what's your opinion on this?"   
  
"I have no right to an opinion," Kyp stated matter-of-factly.   
  
"Isn't she your apprentice? I mean, don't you feel…"   
  
Kyp harrumphed derisively. "Do I have feelings for her? Sure…" At the admission, Jag felt his heart stop and his gut plummet like he was performing one of those gravity defying rolls in his fighter. "…like a big brother. She's almost half my age and my apprentice for what it's worth. What do you take me for? I'm low, Fel, but not quite that low. Besides no one needs my baggage – especially not her. No, I'm more like her guardian or protector. For some reason the Force thrust me into her path in this time and place – maybe to show me not only the error of my ways but hers as well. Jag, I want to save her, but I can't do it alone, especially not from the fate waiting her in this hall."   
  
There was an undeniable sincerity to the Jedi's words, a depth of emotion Jag had never imagined possible. Finally rectifying the Jedi Master's intentions for Jaina, Jag's heart jumpstarted at a thunderous pace and his stomach righted itself just like it always did when flying. "I just thought…"   
  
"There you go thinking again." Kyp said with a snort. He poked a finger into Jag's chest. "Stop thinking like a Chiss and start feeling like a man. She's not in the state of mind to do it for herself so I'm leaving it up to you. I'm afraid that if you don't step up to your calling and make Jaina see the error of her ways…"   
  
Kyp was interrupted as a pair of Hapan guards dragged a man out the doors and past them, the prisoner's boots scraping harshly against the polished floor the entire way. Abruptly, Kyp's head swung to take in the scene just inside the palace hall. With certainly no sensitivity for Jag's recent injuries, the Jedi Master grabbed his shirt and tugged him forcefully toward the room. "If my hunch is right, you may have to decide real quickly exactly what you do feel for Jaina Solo." With that he sent Jag tumbling into the milling crowd.   
  
Somehow, Jag ended up standing next to Shawnkyr. The Chiss female spared him a cursory glance then indicated toward the front of the room. He followed her gaze to find Jaina and Tenel Ka standing before Ta'a Chume, whose eyes glowed with a feline satisfaction.   
  
"It appears, Colonel, that your friend has been outmaneuvered," his second offered without a hint of malice. To the Chiss, a fact was a fact.   
  
Suddenly, Jag understood what Kyp had been preparing him for the whole way here; Shawnkyr had been right. If Isolder offered Jaina the crown now, at a time of crisis, she could hardly refuse it. Ta'a Chume fully expected Jaina to eagerly seize the power. When the queen looked upon the Jedi pilot, she saw a younger version of herself. All the pieces of the Chadrapak board had been maneuvered into place; Jaina was all but cornered.   
  
Kyp had taken up position at Jag's other side, opposite Shawnkyr. He leaned closer and whispered, "So now is the moment of truth. Are you willing to put a stop to this farce if it comes to that?"   
  
"What!?" Jag barked, causing others to turn and look their way.   
  
A discreet wave of the Jedi Master's hand and soon the outburst was forgotten. Kyp kept his eyes forward upon the two Jedi females locked in an intense conversation. "If she had a reason to question the logic of such a noble decision as taking the crown, then perhaps…"   
  
"What is your point exactly? I hold no power over Jaina."   
  
"Sure you do. She certainly won't listen to me, but you, well, you hold her heart in your hands as surely as Carida's sun will never set again. You can stop this…"   
  
Jag looked from Kyp to the front of the audience, to where Jaina and Tenel Ka had forsaken words and now just stared at each other silently. This was it then. The balance point. The precipice. The blade's edge. Jaina mouthed something, and Jag saw a future he never realized he had held in his hands begin to slip from his grasp. It appeared Jaina was about to be lost to the designs of a master manipulator. But his heart demanded that he overrule the logic ingrained in his head.   
  
In that moment, Jag took his first step, charging forward to grasp a future before it became irreparable. "No," he whispered.   
  
Just as abruptly he was drawn back by a restraining hand. He turned to face Shawnkyr with the fierce expression of a man denied. The Chiss's burning eyes equaled his with a fire of pure defiance. "Colonel, you can't interfere…"   
  
Jag ripped his arm free with a sharp tug. "This doesn't concern you, Lieutenant," he spat.   
  
"Wait," Kyp exclaimed and grabbed Jag by the other shoulder. "I can't believe she's going to do it."   
  
Jag had whipped his head to face the quicksilver intentions of the Jedi Master, then back after the odd announcement, intending to discover exactly who _she_ was. In a surreal flip of fate, time passing in slow motion, Jag's world turned topsy-turvy as Tenel Ka and not Jaina stepped forward. The Jedi with flaming hair strode over to her father and dropped to one knee. Without hesitation, he placed the crown on her head.   
  
Thunderous ovation swept through the room. The newly crowned queen rose and whirled toward the crowd, cutting off their applause with a swift, impatient gesture.   
  
"I am a warrior, a daughter of warrior women. Teneniel Djo foresaw the Yuuzhan Vong threat and prepared. Shipyards hidden in the Transitory Mists have rebuilt much of the fleet lost at Fondor. These ships are on their way. Go and fight, and know that Hapes is strong."   
  
Tenel Ka strode back toward Jaina, her pace quickening as she went. Jaina fell into step, and together the two Jedi women ran toward battle. The applause began again, with a fervor that swept them along like a gathering storm.   
  
As the crowd parted to make way for their new queen, Jag stood frozen in place, Kyp at his side. He watched Jaina as she jogged toward them, time still in slow motion so that every thought and movement seemed to weigh heavier and hold more import. Her brown eyes met his gaze, and the faintest smile tempted her lips despite the gravity of the moment. "See you up there," she said with the tip of her head as she passed.   
  
And he realized that perhaps Jaina had never intended to be queen of Hapes despite all of Ta'a Chume's machinations. He had sorely misjudged her then. But what had he been so mistaken about. Everything – her breeding, her bearing, her calling – pointed to that fact she was Jedi royalty, but perhaps Isolder simply was not good enough for her, not one of her own kind. After trying to implore Jaina to stick to her rank, Jag suddenly realized he might have been truly playing well out of his league.   
  
Now out of time, with a fleet awaiting his command, Jag knew he would be denied the luxury of cataloguing these thoughts. So he tucked them away with practiced Chiss stoicism. _For later_, he thought. He was not sure how he would manage to shove aside these burning questions, but he looked at her smile and knew there was so much more riding on the outcome of the day's battle, simply their lives. Upon this revelation, time jumped to fast forward once again.   
  
Jag gave Jaina a formal bow and then glanced to Shawnkyr. The Chiss pilots set off for the docking bay at a run, and Kyp fell into pace beside them.   
  
"Jaina never intended to marry the prince," Kyp stated, indicating, too, that he had misjudged Jaina. But something in the Jedi's green eyes told Jag that he understood the reason why, that he knew the reason Isolder was simply not worthy.   
  
Jag looked with interest over at the Jedi Master. Remarkably it seemed he might still get the answer to his question. "I see. He is not a Jedi," he admitted his fear with hopes Kyp would squash it.   
  
"True, but that's not the issue," Kyp said. "I'm guessing that the only man Jaina would ever take seriously is one who can outfly her."   
  
Jag ran along for several moments before answering. He was tempted to ask Kyp if his thoughts were so transparent to a Jedi that the Master could tell this was now their focal point, even tucked deep into the recesses of his psyche. He wondered how Kyp knew this was the one issue keeping his heart from making that treacherous drop back into the unfamiliar whirlpool where his actions were no longer driven by his mind but rather his heart. How had the Jedi identified and defined simply his last holdout against the fearful submission to his heart's desire to love and be loved in return?   
  
"There are not many who fit that description," Jag observed, taking care to keep any hint of pleasure from voice. He was thankful for the insight Kyp Durron gleaned from his wayward thoughts, but there was a limit to what any man wanted another to know.   
  
"Yeah, I've noticed that," Kyp responded in kind.   
  
They skidded to a stop beside their docked ships. Jag extended his hand to Kyp. They clasped hands briefly. "Watch her back," Jag whispered softly, trusting without a doubt that Kyp was the one man who would understand his meaning. _Bring her back safely so I have a chance to prove that I can outfly her heart._ Then he swung up into his clawcraft where things were straightforward and uncomplicated, and he was simply Colonel Jagged Fel.   
  
TKL/zr


	14. Epilogue

[A/N: Alas my baby has come to an end. I have to say this is some of my favorite work and I hope you guys have enjoyed it as much as I have. Thanks again to **Hoya94**, **Zara** and **Lex** for the beta help.]  
  
**EPILOGUE   
  
HELLO, GOODBYE**   
  
The first hues of the dawning sun pinked the deep azure of the Hapan sky as Colonel Jagged Fel guided his clawcraft toward the particular portion of the landing zone reserved for Vanguard Squadron. The battle for supremacy in the Hapan System had been won late in the evening, and his volunteer band of pilots had more than done their part to earn that victory. Jag had missed flying with them, but he felt no less pride in their accomplishment, especially for his friend Shawnkyr, who had proven she was a worthy commander in her own right. So several hours earlier, Jag had ordered Vanguard Squadron back to the planet for a much-deserved rest, leaving mop-up duties to some of the Hapan units.   
  
Lining up with the last open berth, the point in a pyramid formation, the standard Chiss arrangement, Jag could not help the beginnings of a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. In leaving him the position of honor, his best friend had offered Jag a sort of peace offering after their falling out only a day earlier.   
  
Only a day earlier. Jag wondered if that could possibly be right. In the time since Jag had squared off with his second-in-command, he had snuck into the Palace, taken on the Hapan who had attacked Han Solo, been shot, endured torture, given up on Jaina and…   
  
With the last thirty feet in his descent left, repulsors firing, Jag nudged his foot rudder and allowed the fighter to spin slowly in a move worthy of an Academy cadet. A move that was only performed once and then never again after a flight instructor, always tall on discipline and short on a sense of fun, leveled swift punishment – kitchen duty to be exact – for using a fighter as a toy. But then Jag had no reason to fear a tall, blue-skinned flight instructor and the grim reproach wielded like a weapon by said instructor. Today, Jag had proven he was more than worthy of command. And if he wanted to spiral through the landing, well that was what he would do.   
  
The final approach may not have met Chiss standards, but the actual touchdown would have scored high marks. If the landing strut indicators did not show full load, Jag might have wondered what had happened to the ground below. The lack of any jolting was a welcome relief. He was not sure how much more battering his body could take.   
  
Jag ran through the post-flight powerdown as a matter of course, then removed his helmet. He hung the black plasteel shell on its hook above his head and groaned as ribs screamed their protest. Perhaps serving as the Fleet commander had been for the best with the condition he found himself in. Jag had endured a lot of suffering as a pilot and soldier, most of it in training meant to harden and numb the mind and body when the need arose, but nothing could have prepared him for the emotional and physical battery he had been subjected to in the last day.   
  
Gingerly, Jag climbed out of his cockpit, then slid along the hull to the ground. His breath left him for a moment before he managed to will away the pain to some deep recess of his mind. Squaring his shoulders, Jag spared one final look at his clawcraft. Satisfied the fighter had sealed itself, he started to step off in the direction of his office. A true bed would have been desirable but sleep was even more so. Jag would simply crash on the couch for a couple hours, saving the wasted time of travelling across the city. That way he could rise early and deliver a status report to the queen.   
  
"The Force was with you today, Colonel Fel."   
  
Jag swept his step around to face the voice. Tenel Ka, wrapped in an ornate cloak, stepped out of the shadows between two nearby fighters. Her fiery red hair was plaited in an intricate pattern, glistening as bright as the crown resting within it. Waiting further back, two royal guards hid conspicuously in the darkness.   
  
Snapping his feet together, Jag managed a formal bow despite the weary aches of his body. "Your Majesty, I am honored by…"   
  
Tenel Ka's upheld hand cut him short. A sort of grin formed on her face. "Please. This queen business is tiresome even in its infancy. Can we just be Jag and Tenel Ka?"   
  
Jag tipped his head. "As you wish, Your…uh, Tenel Ka."   
  
Sweeping her hand upward, she said, "Would you walk with me?"   
  
"Certainly."   
  
They strolled in comfortable silence across the landing zone. Tenel Ka definitely had a destination in mind as she wound among the many silent ships and fighters, many showing fresh plasma scarring from the day's battle. On occasion they would see a technician scurrying from one place to the next, but the queen and her companion were given wide berth because of the stern stares from the trailing guards.   
  
"The Hapan people will be forever indebted to you, Jag. And I will be most of all."   
  
Jag kept up the rhythmic cadence of his step as he pondered a response. Initially, as he had flown up to meet the secret Hapan fleet hidden in the Transitory Mists, Jag had wondered why Tenel Ka had given him command. He was a starfighter commander by nature, not a fleet officer. Of course, a basic understanding of fleet tactics had been ingrained into him early on and the principles of engagement were similar, fleet protocols operating on a much grander scale obviously. But he had soon realized his appointment had nothing to do with his skill set and everything to do with Tenel Ka needing someone in command whom she could trust implicitly. And with that realization came a heavy burden.   
  
Thankfully, Jag's training had served him well. He had not failed Tenel Ka's faith.   
  
"I was happy to serve, happy to have been asked to serve."   
  
Tenel Ka stopped, and Jag turned to face her. "It is nice to know I can still count on friends as my responsibilities increase. It makes my burden easier."   
  
"It is nice to know I have a friend here in the Known Regions. Growing up among the Chiss did not lend itself to friendships beyond the camaraderie of those I served with. I have wondered if I would be accepted."   
  
"You have more than one friendship in the making, my friend."   
  
Her gray eyes shifted away. Jag followed her gaze until his eyes stopped at the sight of a small Hapan freighter. He spotted the small figure of a woman sitting on the edge of the lowered ramp, her legs pulled into her chest and her chin on top of her knees. Even in the dim light of morning he would have known Jaina anywhere.   
  
"She wanted to leave, but I restricted all non-military traffic until dawn. My friend underwent many changes today, most for the better. She needed time to rest and regroup. Master Durron needed time to heal as well before they headed out on their next journey. She waits for him now. I am going to say farewell to my friend before he arrives. I thought you might like the chance to do the same."   
  
Jag nodded mutely.   
  
Tenel Ka placed her hand on his arm. Jag tore his gaze away from the Hapan freighter and met his new friend's solemn stare. "May the Force be with you, Jag, as you continue your fight. We, the people fighting for the New Republic, are lucky to have you as an ally. You may not think one man can make a difference, but as a Jedi I know better. You will make a difference."   
  
"I don't know where I will go from here. I may have to return to the Unknown Regions. As it is I have overstepped my mandate," Jag answered flatly. They were the words he should have said, but they sounded hollow in his own ears.   
  
Tenel Ka offered a rare wistful smile. "You will stay and fight because it is what is right, for you." Jag flapped his mouth in protest, but the queen asserted herself. "You are a man ruled by the heart, not the dictates of others."   
  
Her hand moved from his arm to rest solidly against the plane of his chest, directly over his beating heart. Tenel Ka shut her eyes for a moment as if she were taking in the whole of his being in the simple action. After several heartbeats, she opened them again and tipped her head. "Farewell, Jag."   
  
Before Jag could reply in kind, Tenel Ka had spun on her heel and marched off proudly, her head held high. The best he could figure that was the way she had wanted it to be.   
  
As the queen closed the distance to the Hapan freighter, Jaina remained curled up on the ramp. Not until Tenel Ka reached the ship did she give any indication of noticing the queen's arrival. Jaina unfolded her legs slowly and rose. Even standing, Jaina somehow looked smaller, like she took up less space than her usual bold personality, which tended to outshine everyone around her. In that moment, some piece of Jag wanted to cross the distance and wrap Jaina into himself, to give her back whatever it was she had lost over the course of the day.   
  
His mind naturally drifted back to that unfinished thought from before. He had given up on Jaina at some point in the last day, but as the battle had raged across the Hapan system, Jag had found his thoughts had turned to her of their own accord. He had done his job, but always in the back of his mind, he had managed to monitor of the battle waged by the _Trickster_ coral frigate with Jaina at the helm.   
  
What she had done was pure genius coupled with pure madness, right until the moment when it appeared as if the frigate was a loss. Out of nowhere Kyp Durron had sacrificed his fighter to intercept the plasma volleys meant to finish off Jaina. Jag knew undeniably then that he, too, would have given as much, if not more, to keep her safe.   
  
He had not given up on her. His faith had only been shaken. The ties that bound him to Jaina were unquestionable and powerful. He held no sway over his heart in the matter.   
  
And that was the one fact he was learning to accept. His heart truly was capable of simply more than pumping blood; it was certainly able to assert a driving force behind his decisions and wrestle with his brain if the occasion arose.   
  
Growing up, Jag had tried to rectify the man his father was most of the time and the man his father was around his mother. He knew his father had been a man of the land and that circumstances beyond his control were what led him to become the most revered fighter pilot in the galaxy. But the man underneath would not have been much different were he an agriduster pilot or a TIE fighter jock. Soontir Fel was Soontir Fel, driven to excel, a force to be reckoned with.   
  
Although General Baron Soontir Fel could take off his military mantel and become a father to Jag and his siblings, there had always been some of that rigidity and structure welded into the relationship with all his children. Jag's father loved his children like he approached everything, with discipline and fervor. But there was another man that Jag had only seen glimpses of, a private man.   
  
Jag never failed to notice the softness and air of serenity that seemed to wash over his father the moment his mother stepped into a room. There was a look in his eye that until now had been indefinable. Yet Jag was certain he had entertained that same soothing calm only days before when he had held Jaina in his arms.   
  
It was an odd sensation he had experienced. It had taken all the bloodshed and hardship experienced early in Jag's short life and smoothed out the sharp edges, which never stopped digging into his soul. Davin and Cherith's deaths had opened deep wounds Jag never thought would mend, and they never would he supposed. But with Jaina cradled to his body, their deaths hurt less, the ache dulled and was replaced by hope and something else, something completely new and wonderful.   
  
Probably one of the best things to come from all these eye-opening, life-defining realizations was that Jag was forming a better understanding of his father. That softening in the General's cold eyes was no longer foreign because Jag was sure, even as he watched Jaina wrap her friend in a hug, that his eyes were undergoing much the same transformation.   
  
Just then, the two friends parted, and Jaina held something out to the queen. Tenel Ka waved away the offering and instead pointed in Jag's direction. Jaina's gaze swept in the path indicated by Tenel Ka's outstretched hand until her eyes locked into his. And though some forty paces separated Jag from Jaina, he was certain he could read those brown depths and the sadness buried within them.   
  
On a subconscious level, Jag registered Tenel Ka's departure. On a conscious level, he registered the movement of his feet, more because he could make out greater detail in her delicate features with each passing step than because of the knowledge that his feet were actually moving. The odd part was that time passed in slow-motion and quicker than imaginable until he was standing before her.   
  
"Hello, Jaina."   
  
"Hey."   
  
Jaina's eyes were watery, and a single tear slipped past when she blinked. With the back of her hand she batted it away and giggled over a sniffle. Jag could not find the words to ask what exactly it was that troubled her, so he simple raised his hand and traced the tear's track with his thumb. Her eyes closed halfway, and she turned her cheek into his palm for an instant. Then she backed away.   
  
"I'm sorry." Jaina waved after the direction of Tenel Ka's exit. "I guess saying goodbye was harder than I thought."   
  
"You do not have to apologize to me."   
  
Jaina crossed her arms self-consciously across her chest, her shoulders were held close to her ears. "Yes, I do actually." She shuffled her feet and glanced down to watch them. "I've acted like a real jerk to you." She met his gaze and shrugged her shoulders even higher. "There's a reason I am not a diplomat. I am sure I have done nothing to improve Chiss relations."   
  
"I think Chiss relations are doing just fine. It is another relation I am more concerned about."   
  
"And what exactly is that?" she asked curiously.   
  
"You and me."   
  
"Oh."   
  
"You see I cannot say I have had a lot of friends growing up on Csilla, well not human friends at least, and I am not sure exactly how this all works, but I thought maybe…"   
  
"We could be friends?" Jaina finished hesitantly.   
  
"Yes."   
  
Jaina uncrossed her arms and wound her hands together at waist level. "I don't have a lot of friends either. Tenel Ka has been one of my best friends, and I did a fine job of almost screwing that up. And Zekk, he's a friend, but sometimes it's hard to be his friend because he wants more than I could ever give. And there's Lowie, but he wouldn't care if I stole another Suncrusher…" Her rambling abruptly trailed off, and Jaina dropped her hands to her side. "I would like that…to be your friend."   
  
Jag exhaled a sigh he had not known existed until the breath left his lungs. And he found that he was doing something rare for him. He smiled, truly smiled. At least that is what he thought he felt. Things were happening way too fast to be sure.   
  
"Good," he said. Then he held out his hand as if to shake on it.   
  
Jaina eyed his hand curiously. Her grin turned on its side, in an imitation of her father's cocky smirk and Jaina stepped forward. Her hands wrapped around his waist, and Jag was frozen in place as she brought her cheek to his chest. When she spoke he felt the distinct vibrations of her voice inside him.   
  
"Friends in the Known Regions can share a hug, especially when one of the friends sort of needs it."   
  
Jag was not sure how long he had stood with his arms held out from his side, but soon enough they found their way around Jaina of their own accord. There was something natural about holding her against him, like she was meant to fit to his body alone.   
  
The moisture of a tear soaked into Jag's flightsuit and seared his flesh. He said nothing. He did close his eyes so he could memorize the feel of her, every curve and nuance burned into his brain to be recalled later. He was not sure if and when there would be a next time. When she spoke again the words were barely a whisper.   
  
"We usually hug when the time comes to say goodbye, too."   
  
Jag refused to let go as more tears spread across the material between them. He placed his chin on top of her brown, freshly shampooed hair and waited until he found his voice again.   
  
"Where will you go?"   
  
"To the Jedi shelter, then to Borleias. Tenel Ka got word that some part of the Fleet that fled Coruscant is making a stand there. I think I can make a difference."   
  
"You will."   
  
"I hope."   
  
Jag pulled away then and stared into Jaina's eyes. She released him and tried to banish the tears. To her, they may have been a weakness; to Jag, they were a gift. His voice was firm as he spoke.   
  
"You will make a difference."   
  
She swallowed and tipped her head. "I will make a difference." Then, she formed a sort of half-hearted smile. "For Anakin and Jacen's sake." She inhaled one deep breath before continuing. "Where will you go from here?"   
  
"Where I can make a difference," Jag answered noncommittally, but he already knew where he was headed.   
  
"You know, I heard General Antilles was running the show on Borleias."   
  
"Really? Mother sent me back with several datacards to deliver to my uncle. Maybe I could bother you to deliver them…"   
  
"Wasn't your father stationed there? On Borleias?"   
  
"Yes, he was. He enjoyed his time on the planet to a point. I recall him speaking highly of the biotics facility." Jag paused, then arched an eyebrow. "I wonder if…No. Probably not."   
  
"You wonder what?" Jaina asked expectantly.   
  
Jag decided he liked that look on her. "I just wondered if my uncle would have use for a squadron of volunteer pilots…"   
  
"You mean Vanguard Squadron?"   
  
"Is there another?"   
  
"No. I mean, I would expect so. Yes, he can always use someone with your talents. You would make a difference for sure." Jaina grinned. "And you could hand-deliver those datacards from your mother."   
  
"She would like that. Still, there are many reasons for me to head back to Csilla."   
  
"Don't go." Her eyes begged more than the words as she pressed on. "There are too few with your skills. We need you. I…"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I ne…" Jaina slammed her mouth shut and let out an exasperated grunt.   
  
Jag did not need to hear the words to know what she meant. Someday when she was ready, he would hear them. He was willing to wait until that time. Instead, he chuckled lightly at the beauty of the pout on her lower lip, mostly to deflate an overwhelming need to take that lip between his own. On a whim, he leaned over and placed a feathering of a kiss on Jaina's forehead. When Jag pulled away she was staring up at him, her mouth agape and voiceless.   
  
"That was acceptable among friends? Correct?"   
  
Jaina nodded.   
  
"Good. I thought I had overstepped my bounds for a second." Jag heard the distinct clipping of boots some distance away. He knew instinctively it was Kyp Durron. Jag intended to speak to Kyp separately, away from Jaina, so his time with her was drawing to a close much faster than he had hoped. He pursed his lips, then forced a subtle smile meant for her alone. "I had better go prepare a message to send to my father. He will want to be kept up-to-date on my status."   
  
There was a fraction of a second where the expression of a frightened, little girl flashed across her face. "What if he tells you to return home?"   
  
"He won't."   
  
"How do you know? Didn't you tell me he was your commanding officer?"   
  
"He is."   
  
"So how can you be so sure he won't just overrule your decision to go to Borleias? He holds no love for your uncle."   
  
"That is true, but there is a distinction you are overlooking. I said I was going to prepare a message to my father." She blinked several times but the light of understanding never ignited in her eyes as they wavered back and forth in concern. Jag gathered her hands into his, noting how truly right that felt. "Okay this is going to probably be a foreign concept to you, but if I report to my father directly at home and not his position in the Syndic, he cannot address me as my commanding officer. As his son, I am beyond the age of submission in Chiss society. He cannot make me do what I choose not to. It is not entirely a forthright way to deal with the situation, but it will allow me the freedom to keep him informed without endangering my plans. Does that make sense?"   
  
Jaina grinned as his words formed a clear idea in her mind. "Perfect sense. Why Jagged Fel, I think you have the makings of a Rebel after all."   
  
"Coming from you, Jaina, I will take that as a compliment."   
  
Jaina's eyes roamed past him. She, too, had noticed Kyp's arrival, and she gently plied her hands from his. She reached into a pocket on her flightsuit and produced a datcard. "Here," she said while shoving the disc into his empty hand. "When I didn't think I would see you again, I prepared a message."   
  
Jag tucked the datacard away in his chest pocket. "Thank you. I promise to read it later." He paused, and the silence was deafening for that moment. "I suppose this is goodbye for now, Jaina Solo."   
  
"Clear skies, Jagged Fel." She had sent him away with an age-old Chiss blessing. They had talked about it on one of those many nights spent strategizing in his office. It warmed his heart that she had remembered.   
  
He stole one last look, then about-faced sharply, steeling back into the disciplined pilot's mind before he lost his composure. Several long, determined steps carried Jag over to where Kyp had chosen to remain unobtrusively while they had said their farewell. Jag drew himself up before the Jedi Master, imparting the man with all the respect he was due.   
  
"I am indebted to you."   
  
Kyp's eyes swept past Jag to where Jaina waited at the base of the ship's ramp. "For saving her?"   
  
"Yes. Today I learned that I may have severely misjudged you."   
  
Kyp snorted. "I'm still the Destroyer of Carida, Jag. I have done terrible things in my life. That fact will never change. You may do right by judging me unfavorably. I certainly wouldn't hold it against you, not from a man with such unwavering standards as yourself."   
  
Jag studied Kyp quickly. Something about the Jedi had changed dramatically since their last parting. Kyp had the look of a man who had finally found a mirror and not liked what he discovered in its reflection. That fact did not change what Jag had to say.   
  
"The Chiss have a saying – _A man who learns from his failings is a better man than one who has never failed._ For you, I have to believe that is true. And that does not change the fact that I now owe you."   
  
Kyp mouth twisted into a rue smile. "Jag Fel owing me - I like the sound of that."   
  
"I suppose you would."   
  
"I tell you what, we share a mutual concern for my apprentice over there. You go over and give her a reason to look forward to tomorrow, and we'll call it even."   
  
Kyp stuck out his hand, and Jag accepted it. They shook once, then it was Jag's turn to smile. "It is done. So we are even."   
  
"Done?"   
  
"You heard me. If you don't believe me, go ask her yourself."   
  
Kyp's squinting, green eyes drilled right into Jag. "I think I will." He started to stalk off, then paused after only one step. "I'll see you around, Jag."   
  
"I am sure you will.   
  
Kyp looked as if he wanted to question that response. Instead, he strode over to where Jaina waited at the bottom of the ramp. Their conversation was inaudible, but Jag knew by the grin on Jaina's face and Kyp's dumbfounded stare that the Jedi had gotten his answer.   
  
Jag flipped his hand up in a casual wave, and Jaina did the same. Her presence was not so dim anymore. Not larger than life, but definitely brighter. And Jag knew he had something to do with that. As he turned to walk away, Jag knew her upheld palm was definitely not a goodbye, simply a fresh start.   
  
_THE END  
_

* * *

TKL/zr


End file.
